


That One Story With The Dragons In It

by sensitive_pigeon



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dragonslayer/Paladin Nicole Haught, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Lower Noble/Mage Waverly Earp, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Thief!Wynonna, big flaming swords and dragons, mutual gay idiocy, overly complicated original fantasy world au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-14 14:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15390900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensitive_pigeon/pseuds/sensitive_pigeon
Summary: You know this story.It’s a story with prophecy and destiny, magic and monsters, heroes and villains. It’s about the chosen one and the woman who killed him, the forgotten third child battling an evil stepsister, and how fate tied it all together with an oncoming apocalypse of terrible odds that true love will certainly overcome.You know, that one story with the dragons in it.--Nicole Haught has finally done it -- She’s killed her Ancient Dragon and is now to be wed in front of the whole of the Empire. Twelve houses and twelve possible brides will step forward for her to choose from. If all goes well, she’ll be married before the day ends.Only trouble is, she knows who she is fated to marry, and it’s none of them.Waverly Earp never has trouble keeping herself out of her sister’s business, but when that business becomes a plan to kill the emperor, she takes a chance to interfere.





	1. The Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> and now for something completely different
> 
> dragons! big swords! magic! gay mutual idiocy! sorta like game of thrones except everyone is canadian! yeehaw!
> 
> shorter chapters this time by half (20 pages instead of 40). hopefully that leads to faster updates, but it will mean i get to leave you on some serious cliffhangers. hope you like those
> 
> please do not ask me about 180 -- it is being worked on, and trust me you do not want me to rush this final arc.
> 
> thanks to Msfire, Haughtpocket, Iamthegaysmurf for beta. that's a lot of beta, but im extremely nervous about this so here we go
> 
> some notes:  
> Nicole seems like an ass, but keep in mind it's from Waverly's perspective. i will probably go back and forth PoV wise like a madman in future chapters. i love doing that  
> i GUESS there might eventually be smut because it was bound to happen eventually
> 
> BIG SWORD LESBIAN,  
> [@Sensitivepigeon](https://twitter.com/sensitivepigeon)  
> [Sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com/)

PROLOGUE

(These stories always have a prologue.)

 

It was a time of myth and magic.

In times like those, you needed a prophecy.

Dragonslayer Nedley reminded himself of that fact as he stepped through the musty tent. The rickety old woman covered herself in an appropriate amount of linens, hiding her scant body beneath layers of cloth. Her face wasn’t visible, but her thin, reedy voice was barely audible.

“Nedley,” said the Oracle of the Northern Delta, pointing a bony hand. “You are late.”

“Prophet,” Nedley said respectfully. “Which grocery market manager are you predicting will rise to power this time?”

“Watch your tongue,” the oracle snapped. “I’ve got one about the chosen one.”

“So the flower seller, then.”

“No, _not that_ again.” The Oracle almost stood, but remembered she wasn’t supposed to be able to. “I have heard great things on the wings of time. All other oracles, if they are true, will speak the same words.”

Nedley crossed his arms. “I’m listening.” He nodded to Robert, who pulled out his papers and readied himself to write.

The Oracle leaned her head back, chanting and moaning in another language. Then, she began to speak about the end of the world.

“The tides of darkness rise from the deep. If it is not stopped, the world shall be barren and corrupt. Find the champions to stop it. One will take an innocent life and claim great power belonging to someone else. The other will betray their family and become one of the most powerful mages of our time. Both will be required to bring about the end of the world as we know it.”

“Wait.” Nedley frowned. “That _can’t_ be correct.”

“I don’t argue with fate.” The Oracle shrugged and stuck out her hand. “Pay up.”

“Hang on, he’s right,” Robert said, putting his journal away. “Those sound like the villains of the story, not the heroes.”

“Pay up!” snapped the Oracle.

Nedley grunted and gestured. A guardsman pulled out a sack and handed it to the Oracle, who eagerly dug around inside and pulled out a wedge of cheese.

Robert touched Nedley’s arm. “Seriously? She gave us nonsense.”

“Nonsense that every other Prophet has confirmed,” he pointed out. “It’s real. The end of the world is coming, and we need to find those two champions.”

“Can we talk about how one of them is a murderer and a thief?” Robert hissed as they stepped out of the tent into the warm, damp land of the villages around Raven’s Crescent. “And the other -- a destroyer of their family! _To end the world was we know it_ …”

“‘ _Barren and corrupt’_ or _over with,_ ” Nedley mused. His daughter and Imperial Agent, Chrissy, rushed over from across the camp. Guardsmen parted immediately, sensing her rush and calling along greetings that she ignored. “Hard to decide.”

Chrissy stopped before them and leaned on her knees, panting. She raised one hand to signal them to wait. They waited a full minute in the worsening heat of the jungle oasis around them.

“Whew.” Chrissy straightened and adjusted her tunic. “Did she speak it? The words?”

“She did,” Robert confirmed.

“I’ve been thinking on them.” Chrissy tapped her chin. “What if ‘ _the world as we know it’_ is simply another word for a big change?”

“By those two villains?”

“Well.” Chrissy blushed. “It sounds better than barren and corrupt.” Nedley cleared his throat and Chrissy snapped to attention. “Sir. There’s word of a dragon near Panhou. Massive and flying through the air and burning innocent villagers.” Chrissy leaned forward. “It’s an Ancient, dad. The locals have named it Imperius. It’s _gold_.”

Nedley stopped, stunned. Robert met his astonished glance. Golden. A creature who would make its killer a god.

Nedley pulled his horn from his belt and blew it, the clear note resounding over the massive encampment. The whole expedition would be needed, mobile ballistae and all. For an Ancient, he’d need more than just him and Robert.

“I can handle it,” Robert said, taking a step forward.

“No, not alone. Send for Haught and her team,” Nedley ordered. Chrissy nodded, bowed to Robert, and scampered away.

“Don’t tell anyone about the prophecy,” Nedley insisted to Robert, already trusting Chrissy’s silence, “or we’ll have a whole bunch of murderers and thieves running about looking for women handing out swords in lakes.”

 

It only took half the day for the hundreds of soldiers to get the caravan moving. Talk of the Ancient ran up and down the lines, a buzz of nervous energy lending speed to their steps. A few burst into an old Dragonhunter song that kept time for marching.

Nedley lead the way atop his stocky warsteed, Robert a step behind.

“Nedley,” Robert called. Nedley slowed to his side enough for Robert to lower his voice. “What if it’s me? What if I’m the chosen one?”

“You’ve killed someone?” he asked sharply.

“No.” Robert paused. “Not that I know of.”

They rode in silence, knowing it would be weeks before they arrived in the Iron Reach.

“Would you do it?” Robert asked.

“Do what?”

“Kill an innocent person to save the world.”

Nedley didn’t reply for a long time.

“If the world needs an innocent death to be saved,” Nedley responded, “maybe the world isn’t worth saving.”

Nedley rode up ahead, missing Robert’s next words.

“I would.”

* * *

 

\---

CHAPTER ONE

SIX WEEKS LATER

\---

It was the most important tradition in the Empire’s history, and Waverly Earp was trying desperately not to ruin it.

The sun bore down mercilessly on the writhing mass of celebrants, each trying to out-shout the other. Blue and gold, the colors of the Dragonslayer honored, were thrown about over the high-top diverse structures of the main thoroughfare. Hawkers and hucksters lurked among them, selling trinkets and merchandise with the chosen knight’s coat of arms.

“Shirt, miss?” one managed to ask Waverly before being bodily shoved away by a Royal Guard.

Waverly bit the inside of her cheek as another tide of hate rose in her breast. She stood in the shade at the edge of the center plaza. Emperor Dolls himself, regal in his tunic of red, stood patiently to welcome home his champion.

“Disgusting,” Willa murmured, eyeing the Emperor. Waverly could hear at her place beside her, surrounded by their ragged nobles under the brown swan of House Earp. Their presence in the inner quarter seemed an insult, but _all_ houses were welcome to present their offered to be chosen.

The Lord Earp glared at her hard. “Don’t forget where we are.”

“Surrounded by our people.”

“Surrounded by _enemies_ ,” he corrected sharply. “Watch your tongue.”

Waverly kept her head low, implying she hadn’t heard anything. Sometimes, they forgot she was there.

The cheering grew louder and Waverly’s frown deepened.

All of this was a _lie_.

The truth, ever-present in Waverly’s mind:

The Emperor’s beautiful champions, the Guardians of the Realm, those blessed Dragonslayers, were nothing more than overblown butchers who stole magic from the corpses of beautiful, intelligent creatures.

“You all right, Waverly?” Knight Henry asked, his broad hat brushing the other men as he turned to look down at her. “Heat sick?”

Waverly shook her head, only halfway lying. She only wore a dress compared to his overlapping leathers and helmet. A kind man, but he would soon be in the Dragonslayer’s service, as well. They all would be. Waverly’s fists clenched.

“My Dragonslayer is coming, Waverly,” Willa said, always taking a cruel enjoyment of strutting her achievements in front of one who had none.

“The Dragonslayer could choose someone else,” Waverly muttered back before she could stop herself.

Willa was in too good a mood to abuse her for it. She raised her hand instead, showing off a small, subtle ring. Waverly stared at it blankly.

“Don’t you see it?” Willa asked. “The pure magic I’ve put into this thing. The Dragonslayer doesn’t have a _choice_.”

Waverly looked away, feeling ill despite herself. She almost felt bad. _Good luck, Dragonslayer,_ she wished, _for your strength and whatever magic you stole is nothing to my sister._

The cheers reached higher, stealing Waverly from her thoughts. She couldn’t see, not past the broiling crowd. Calm. She tensed her jaw, breathing deep, schooling herself.

She absolutely _wasn’t_ going to ruin this.

 _Definitely not,_ she reminded herself as the crowd parted and hushed. The sharp noise of hoof on stone, and then there he was: The Dragonslayer. He shone in the sunlight with his plated Dragonhunter’s armor, not yet replaced with the scale-armor of his slain dragon, face hidden completely by a helmet.

Waverly’s hand curled into a fist.

The Dragonslayer dropped to the courtyard and strode toward the Emperor with purpose. He stopped at the center, and the faceless priests rushed forward to complete the ceremony, chanting in their obscure language.

He drew his blade and pointed the massive sword to the sky, the metal still covered in what must be dragon’s blood. Waverly swayed, suddenly ill.

The blade lit aflame with sunlight magic before the Dragonslayer turned and drove it into the stone circle. The crowd cheered uproariously for some reason. Something important had happened, that was for sure. They _really_ liked that.

“Victorious champion!” the Emperor called, his voice amplified by his assistant mages. “You have done a service to the Empire in your protection of our lands. Thanks to you, the men and women of East River will sleep well tonight, unbothered by the nightmare of the skies, the Ancient dragon _Imperius!”_

“Easy, Willa,” Lord Earp murmured as the Emperor continued monologuing. “Stop glowering.”

“I could do it as soon as the feast ends,” Willa hissed under her breath. “I could do it earlier. Let me do it earlier.”

“No, you stupid little girl,” he growled back. “Midnight.” He lowered his voice further, so low Waverly could barely hear it: “Then that pig _dies_.”

Waverly looked around, but none of the others were close enough to hear. Just her. Waverly felt a tide of panic rise in her chest. She didn't have anything against the Emperor, not like the rest of her family, it was only the people who _served_ him that she had issues with...

Did he _really_ deserve to be overthrown? And for what, to reinstate the Old Kingdom and the old ways that Waverly had read about in nightmarish passages in her books?

Waverly didn't know. 

“In honor of your deeds and your tremendous sacrifice, the Royalty of this city have offered you the perfect choice of bride. Be married, be happy, and be given peace in union. May family settle your war-torn spirit. May the embrace of your bride grant you rest between battle.”

Could she do something? Steal the ring? No. Willa held the ringed hand in the other, twirling it nervously as the ceremony went on. No way. Waverly had to think of another way to foil their plan.

“Now, blessed Dragonslayer, rise and greet those who would offer themselves to you for life. To cherish and to love for an entire lifetime at your side.”

That was the cue. Willa stepped forward out of the tent along with eleven others seeking glory for their house.

The Dragonslayer stood and surveyed them, impassive helmet sweeping back and forth. Willa bowed and caught his attention with some words, brave enough to speak first, then raised her hand to be kissed.

He paused, leaning forward ever so slightly. He raised his own hand as if to touch it, fingers trembling, reaching toward death. Enchanted by it. Waverly couldn’t see the magic, but she knew first hand how much power Willa could wield.

Enough to kill the Emperor.

And Waverly could do nothing.

Or...

As soon as she had the idea, Waverly stepped forward.

Gasps ran up and down the crowd as the perfect holy circle was disturbed by another. Her heart leapt to her throat, thousands of eyes peeled off the Dragonslayer to her as she hustled forward, lifting her skirts, trying to join the circle before--

The Dragonslayer turned and spotted her, broken from the ring’s enchantment. Willa’s face turned grave as she whirled around, but then shock overcame it.

 _“Waverly?”_ she mouthed.

Waverly Earp, lowest of the lowest House Earp, stood before a Holy Dragonslayer of the Emperor and the twelve beautiful, powerful women who had worked their lives for this moment.

“Shit,” she said under her breath.

She hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“Dear,” a woman said, shaking her head, “I think you may have--”

A clank of metal as the Dragonslayer lifted one hand. The crowd hushed and the world stood still. Waverly felt pinned to the spot as seconds wore on and on. She remembered her secret moments in the library, reading on history, and the horrible acts that the Old Kingdom had committed. Willa liked to whisper that she might one day bring back hanging.

Would Waverly be first, now, for disrupting the second holiest rite of the Empire?

No, it seemed. Cold metal brushed her fingertips, and Waverly jumped before realizing what had happened. No. _No._ He couldn’t choose _her_ . He wouldn’t. She was a _stranger_. But Waverly had very clearly consented to this. She tried not the flinch back as the Dragonslayer’s fingers entwined with hers.

Willa was faster, going so far as to touch the Dragonslayer. The helmet tipped as he looked in what might be disbelief at the hand on his elbow.

“You _can’t_ choose her!” Willa insisted in a hiss. “She’s _nothing_.”

The Dragonslayer tilted his head inquisitively. Waverly shrank. Willa continued.

“She does nothing at all. No lessons. She’s barely good enough to clean or cook. Let me, Dragonslayer. I will show you what love is.”

The Dragonslayer could say nothing, but did what Willa hated most: Completely disregarded her in favor of Waverly. He used his other arm to reach for Waverly. He took her hand and tugged her forward gently, one step, before dropping to his knees before her.

He had chosen her.

The world burst into cheers as Waverly’s life ended.

“So you have chosen!” the Emperor called triumphantly over the crowd’s exuberance.

Waverly stared down at the Dragonslayer in complete disbelief.

“No, this can’t _be_ ,” Willa began, before another woman stopped her with an arm strong enough to snap her in pieces, and a glare just as dangerous. The woman roughly herded Willa away, ignoring her protests.

The Dragonslayer stood before Waverly and offered her a single nod. Waverly wanted to slap him. Her life -- God, her life was _over_ . Tied to a _Dragonslayer_ of all things, the worst of all creatures in the Empire.

“Let the union be solidified under the sun!” the Emperor intoned, a priest rushing forward to anoint the both of them in water. “By my powers as Emperor, I announce you to be joined in union. Dusk approaches, and then you shall be wed together before all of the Empire!”

Waverly’s world crashed to a halt as the city cheered uproariously around her. Streamers and colorful magic paper filled the air along with songs of celebration. Attendants rushed to their side, chittering and chattering inane words, leading them slowly up the grand road toward the Palace proper.

She heard the loud shrieking tone of her sister’s rage, and Waverly searched for her with halted lungs, only to spy guardsmen holding Willa back from charging the pair. She let out a breath. There was that, at least.

The surge of people pushed them forward. The brute beside her walked on, not looking at her beyond that nod of acknowledgement. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. What grand stupidity she had done! What foolish bravery! As if she had done anything but make Willa’s plan harder. The Emperor would die either way. What an idiot she’d been, and now it had backfired terribly.

And now what?

Waverly felt a stir of fear.

“You can call me Gus. I’m your handmaiden,” an elderly woman said, taking her by the other arm. “Tears of happiness?”

Waverly swallowed at the title. “Yes, of course,” she said instead, voice brittle as they all took the stairs upward to the palace. Gardens wreathed the white stone palace, spires stretching upward to catch the sun, sparkling grand windows reflecting and welcoming its light.

“Your new home, here, the palace,” Gus explained. “You’ll have the full run of it.”

 _A beautiful prison,_ Waverly thought darkly as the Palace Guards bowed in respect. They, too, wore blue and gold in honor of the Dragonslayer’s house. House Haught. Waverly knew almost nothing of it. Her absence at lectures had no consequences…until now.

Eyes on her. Her husband, the Dragonslayer, _the brute_ tilted his head at her inquisitively. Waverly managed a smile that was more like a bearing of teeth.

As much as she hated her family, she had to honor this agreement or else innocent people would be disgraced. The kindly servants, the nobles who ran in their circles, the common folk of their home town -- all would be mocked and derided if the champion Dragonslayer was not given the greatest. Waverly had to serve her husband dutifully.

The crowds parted down to important folk with busy faces. Attendants swarmed and stole Waverly away from the Dragonslayer, leading her down a side entry into a room filled with assorted dresses.

“Come!” the apparent lead tailor called. “Let’s get you out of…whatever that is.”

Her nicest dress. Waverly winced.

Attendants ambushed Waverly and pulled her into elegant rooms full of dresses and cloth. They stripped her with military precision, working together as if they’d done this hundreds of times, chuckling in amusement at Waverly’s shyness. Waverly fell into the bath in an instant, hiding her body with a blush.

The tailor clapped her hands and they silenced. “Measure and wash, ladies, measure and wash.”

They seemed to scrub down to the skin. Waverly was pulled and prodded as murmuring tailors cut cloth and bickered. Twenty minutes in a hot bath was a dream, but not with a dozen strangers. Imperials had strange ideas about modesty, sometimes bathing with a hundred other people talking business and who knew what else, _completely naked!_

Another two claps snapped Waverly from her thoughts.

“You’ll dress a bit differently here than in the North,” the tailor said as she arranged a slimmer, much simpler dress of impossible beauty. “You’ll wear the colors of your new house, of course, but you still look loveliest in greens. Hmm.” The woman brought out an array of necklaces and gestured to the attendants, who fished Waverly from the bath.

She snatched the towels quickly and hid herself. The tailor smiled kindly at her, offering an outfit that stunned Waverly to silence. The worth of it alone could buy an estate. She was dressed behind the divider with six helping.

Waverly couldn’t help but be dumbfounded by the necklace they offered her. It held a medal engraved with House Haught’s coat of arms, one dragon scale hanging below it. On either side of the medal, twelve dragon scales glittered in the light.

“Twelve adults and countless others slain.” The tailor nodded, pleased. “We’ve been waiting on our Dragonslayer. Knew it was only a matter of time.”

Waverly tried not to vomit.

Mercy: The dress allowed her to move and breathe much more easily. Waverly had stared in astonishment as the women had discarded her corsets and simply overlaid her skin with bright blue and subtle gold, tying it off with a sash in the middle. The shoulders were decorated with fake golden scales, and soon enough, _even more gold_ was added in the form of jewelry.

“You seem displeased,” she noted.

“Nerves,” Waverly explained quickly. The woman smiled and patted her cheeks.

“You could not have been chosen by a kinder Dragonslayer.” She turned serious. “Try not to sweat, it will ruin your makeup.”

Kind enough to choose a stranger. Wait--

_Makeup?_

And before Waverly could fully comprehend, more women were in her face, this time with brushes that itched and powders that stung her nose. Willa had something like this. _But the sheer amount!_ But the artistry to which the women assigned to their task with narrow, determined eyes impressed Waverly beyond words.

They stepped back, nodding with satisfaction.

“Gorgeous,” the tailor said, revealing aged teeth as she watched Waverly move in the light.  Waverly bore the compliment like a slap and smiled thinly in response. The woman bowed. “Your Dragonslayer will be pleased.”

“I should hope so,” Waverly muttered under her breath. The tailor didn’t hear her, only opened the door with a flourish and a smile.

“Come, come!” she said brightly as Waverly stepped along. “No need to keep your lover waiting.”

Waverly pasted a smile on her face despite everything. She had to be cool, calculative, like Willa. That was the only way she could survive this with her spirit intact.

They walked down the elegant halls toward the ceremony. Waverly could hear the distant cheering, but retreated deeper into her mind, forming a plan. As long as Waverly kept the Dragonslayer’s interest, she held power and a kind of freedom. She’d do what the Dragonslayer asked. Convince him she was just a stupid, foolish girl, and perhaps he’d simply leave her be.

(An awful plan that didn’t factor in the assassination plot she’d foiled and the reckoning that Willa would give her.)

Still. It was something to hold onto that made her feel in control. Waverly lifted her chin, plan cemented. She would bend, yes, but not break. The Dragonslayer owned her, but could never claim her spirit.

They turned into the large hallway that ran between the entrance and the Imperial Throne. There, standing before the Emperor and the High Priest, was her Dragonslayer. Slimmer than he had initially seemed, and red-haired. Interesting.

 _Be brave_ , Waverly reminded herself.

The High Priest leveled a stare at her, and the Dragonslayer turned.

Both froze.

Woman.

The Dragonslayer was a _woman._

Her would-be husband was a would-be _wife._

The chances were impossibly slim and frankly unheard of in the North, in the Old Kingdom that House Earp was still loyal to, but the Empire had changed everything. Everything. Anyone could be a Dragonslayer. Women could choose women, and men could choose men. Some could declare themselves neither gender or any. Of course _possible,_ but…

How could Waverly hate someone so _striking_ ? Short red hair fell to her chin, a beautiful face turning to hers, captivatingly soft brown eyes evaluating her face, not her body. The collared tunic of the Southern style, with sharp edges and overlapped cloth, looked so… so _appealing_.

The Dragonslayer’s mouth opened to speak, but the Priest cleared his throat.

“The ceremony,” he whispered curtly.

Waverly jumped and blushed, refusing to meet the eye of the beautiful woman she’d given herself to. She stepped forward beside her quickly in a rustle of silk before remembering to look bold and confident and like she knew any of what was going on. She lifted her chin and met the stares of the Empire.

They were filled with awe.

How bizarre it was to wake up in a straw, uncomfortable bed and now be wed to one of the most powerful people in the land.

“Now we shall begin.”

Oh, shit.

Waverly didn’t know the procedures. She hid her panic behind a fake smile as the priest lifted his hands and the chanting grew louder. She had _no fucking idea_ what was going to happen next, or what to do.

The High Priest fell silent. His cadre gestured symbolically, murmuring some prayers in their hidden language, faces hidden behind their smooth masks. They were harmless, kind folk, but Waverly couldn’t help but be unnerved. Their language was the only one Waverly could not understand in the slightest.

Light flooded the chamber from the ceiling, the mage-carved windows and lights reflecting the sun as it slipped lower toward the horizon. Awed murmurs rose in the crowd before the High Priest began to speak.

“The sun!” he proclaimed with his arms raised. “Its beautiful light shines upon this union. Now I speak the ancient blessings.”

Waverly hid her irritation. He spoke so _slowly._

“An Ancient Dragon has died so that we may yet live. Today, we wed Nicole of House Haught to…” He blinked, lost.

“Waverly,” Waverly whispered.

“ _Waverly_ of House Earp!” the Priest called as if he hadn’t paused. Waverly burned with embarrassment. “Join hands, please.” He turned to Nicole. “You spoke the words of death at the end of Imperius. Since then, you have held silence. Now you will declare before the Empire your vow of life.”

Nicole met her gaze briefly -- and Waverly could have sworn that she held an apology there.

“I, Nicole Haught, have chosen my wife and eternal companion.”

Waverly fought the urge to sway, feeling lightheaded.

“I vow upon the Heavens I will love, cherish, and protect her until my soul burns out.”

 _Those are some nice thoughts, at least,_ Waverly thought bitterly. She knew the worth of pretty words only got so far.

“Waverly Earp.” Nicole looked directly at her and Waverly froze under her intense stare. It seemed to see her. _Just_ her. “I give unto you _all_ that I am and have to give. This I swear on the Sun, the Moon, and all the Heavens.”

The words were frighteningly genuine. Murmurs stirred in the crowd. Waverly peered curiously at them, unsure what the words really implied. Nobody dared tell her. The High Priest had his eyebrow raised as he cleared his throat again.

“And so Waverly Earp will also speak her vow.”

He looked at her expectantly. Waverly blinked at him in utter disbelief. No one had given her any sort of script at all, and he expected her to...what? Just…start talking? Waverly bit her cheek to prevent harsh words from escaping. Her vow would be to get away as fast and as far as possible, thank you.

For a half-second, Waverly wondered how fast she would be exiled and thrown from the city if she simply said _no thanks, I changed my mind._

(But to return to the damp castle, in her shadowed cramped room and creaky bed, after being here? This chance… It could be _good_.)

All she had to give up was her freedom to this murderer, but was there really a choice?

The crowd buzzed with whispers.

No, she had no choice.

The High Priest leaned forward, pity in his eyes. “I, Waverly Earp, have been chosen,” he whispered.

“I, Waverly Earp, have been chosen,” Waverly said aloud, hiding her bitter despair and disgust. He whispered under his breath, and she continued. “I vow upon the Heavens that I shall offer the Dragonslayer, Nicole Haught, all of my love and all I have to give. I will love, cherish, and protect her until my soul burns out. This I swear on the Sun, the Moon, and all the Heavens.”

The High Priest nodded, satisfied. “Now, before the Empire, under the Heavens, your vows shall be sealed.” He gestured.

Nicole seemed to go stiff all over. Waverly glanced at her and back to the priest. _What?_ She mouthed, painfully aware she was embarrassing the Dragonslayer in front of the entire Empire. Waverly wilted inside at the thought of her father’s embarrassment and his subsequent rage.

“ _Kiss_ her,” the priest hissed at Nicole, frustrated. Waverly’s eyes widened in shock as Nicole’s jaw tensed. Her eyes slid to Waverly’s, and she understood that this was some kind of pitiful chivalry.

Waverly moved forward and drew Nicole down to her. She trembled slightly, but Nicole’s hand came up to steady her chin, the touch achingly gentle, before she kissed her.

Soft. Nice, almost. Nicole pulled back after a long moment, and Waverly felt a wave of curious loss, before realizing it was her freedom.

“So be it before the Heavens that Nicole and Waverly Haught are joined eternally as wives!”

Waverly felt tears build in her eyes. Nicole, her wife, stared at her with a strange expression of sadness, but Waverly refused to meet her gaze. The crowd broke its lines and burst into chattering motion, funneling down a hallway toward the Gardens to celebrate the night away. The Emperor himself paused before the pair.

Waverly couldn’t hide her wide eyes and open shock. Willa had met him, but Waverly had seen him only in paintings. The Emperor only granted her a faint smile before looking at Nicole like he would an old friend.

“Always surprising me,” the Emperor said wryly. “We’ll talk later, Nicole.”

Nicole nodded politely. Waverly panicked and half bowed, flushing immediately at the frown on the Emperor’s face. He and Nicole shared a look that said something Waverly missed.

“Come on. Time to celebrate.” The Emperor led the way, and they had no choice but to follow, boxed in by dozens of guards and higher nobility. Waverly shut her eyes and tried to manage her mixture of anger and despair.

Nicole, her wife, leaned over.

“I’ll explain everything soon, I promise,” she whispered. “I know you must be really confused, but _please_ trust me.”

Waverly stared at Nicole, completely dumbfounded.

Trust her? A _Dragonslayer_? Yeah. Not likely, extremely pretty face or no.

Another thing the Old Kingdom and the Empire shared: The desire to party well into the night.

The Imperial Gardens were incredible. Waverly tried not to gawk too obviously at the majesty around them as they stepped down the path toward the main guest area. The food! Plates upon plates of delicacies Waverly had never seen nor heard of, just as varied as the people. So many of them, wearing elegant expensive clothing and throwing their heads back to laugh uproariously at some joke. The languages that sang through Waverly’s ears made her smile against her will.

Waverly had never seen so much color. All things in Tombstone were grey and white and black. Here, any color could hold the stage. Of people, of clothing, of flowers. It was breathtaking. The fading light of dusk made everything magical in its own right.

“Do you like it?” Nicole asked softly.

“It’s incredible,” Waverly breathed in a rare moment of honesty, forgetting herself. They stepped into the main dining area, and so many came forward to try to speak.

“Haughts!” a man shouted from beside the fountain. A group milled around him, and he waved the pair over.

Nicole frowned, looking to Waverly, but watched in surprise as Waverly laced their arms together and pasted on a rather convincing smile.

The Emperor turned to them briefly, halting them in an instant. “Seriously, Nicole. Come talk to me later. Don’t avoid it.”

Nicole nodded gravely. She glanced at Waverly, who gestured. _Go, idiot_. She did with tight lips, before echoing Waverly’s smile. They moved in step, the perfect happy newlyweds, and stopped before the mass of couples.

“This is Dragonslayer Nedley,” Nicole introduced before being swooped into a bear hug by the man.

“Congratulations,” he said, tearing up a little, a hard grip on Nicole’s shoulders. He turned to Waverly, curious, before he looked to Nicole. “You…”

“Later,” Nicole said vaguely. Nedley gave a nod before smiling again, offering Waverly his hand.

Waverly hid her terror and shook his hand, trying her best to mirror his grip.

“I never thought I’d shake hands with an Earp and welcome them to the family,” he said. Waverly just tried to look polite and not take offense. There was no telling what kind of reputation her father had garnered.

The others introduced themselves. Waverly lost the names soon after they spoke them, trying so hard to keep them to faces, but failing swiftly. How did people do it?

Waverly put on a brave face and hid her fear. Death waited for her behind every smile. Dragon killers shaking hands with a dragon sympathizer. If they found out...

To her immense relief, the next topic wasn’t Dragonslaying. It was lighthearted gossip and banter, speckled with inside jokes.

Waverly zoned out, inspecting the other couples, noting their necklaces and faces. The extraordinary diversity of the Empire did not stop here. They all were Dragonslayers and their chosen, but the other thing they had in common?

They were _happy._

As far as Waverly could tell, not a single one faked it as she did. They all were genuinely pleased with the circumstances.

Soon enough, they had to break away and walk the gardens properly, meeting new faces every moment. People kept stopping them, congratulating them, introducing themselves. Waverly’s face ached from her smile. The first moment they had to breathe, Waverly gathered her courage.

“Nicole.” Waverly forgot all her fear and tugged on Nicole’s sleeve. She turned and followed a step behind. They stopped outside of range of anyone. “Please, I need to explain something. In private.”

No complaints, no arguments. Just a firm nod and “Okay.”

Waverly blinked in surprise, but Nicole took her gently by the hand to lead her toward where they might find privacy. They were forced to stop every few steps and accept congratulations, smiling and leaning together like a couple.

“The wedding dance!” someone called. The pair halted like deer before hunters, meeting each other’s terrified gazes. “The happy couple will lead us tonight on our first slow song of the evening!”

Cheers and clapping.

“Oh, no,” Nicole breathed.

“Shit,” Waverly said. Nicole looked at her in surprise and she ignored it. “We have to.”

“Do you not know how to dance?” Nicole asked.

“I learned,” Waverly said. One of her only happy memories with her mother. A pang of loss almost took her breath away. “I know how.”

With a nod, Nicole turned and lead her to the floor, unable to do anything else with hundreds of eyes on them. Candles and torches lit what the half-moon did not as they stopped together in the center.

Nicole bowed politely over her hand. If someone had told Waverly that a Dragonslayer would ever bow to an Earp, she would have thought them insane.

“May I have this dance, Waverly?” Nicole asked formally, as if she were from one of Waverly’s stolen romance novels. As if Waverly had a choice in the matter.

“You may,” Waverly assented. Nicole stood and moved in, but Waverly had to place Nicole’s hands on her body before someone noticed Nicole’s reluctance to touch her. They stood pressed together, Nicole’s hand resting on her hip, the other clasped in hers beside them. Waverly curled one arm behind Nicole’s neck. “Stop being so stiff.”

Nicole complied before Waverly could internally flip out about ordering a Dragonslayer around.

The music began and they moved together as one.

“Imperius is a dragon of prophecy and truth,” Nicole breathed. Waverly bit back a sharp comment, and had to fight a frown of disgust. But Nicole’s next comment took her completely by surprise: “I _had_ to choose you. Imperius asked me to.”

They twirled, and Nicole spun her beautifully.

“Why should I trust what you say?” Waverly bit back. “You’re a Dragonslayer. A butcher. A killer.”

“You’re not wrong.” Nicole swept them both around in a grand gesture. “But why did you step forward?”

Waverly almost missed a step and turned her head, unable to meet Nicole’s eyes. “I _had_ to.”

“So you hate me, and you _had_ to step forward, and I _had_ to choose you.” Nicole paused briefly as the song took them apart. “ _Amazing_ ,” Nicole whispered, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, I’ll offer you something. A secret.”

Waverly had to hide her surprised face between them. Nicole leaned forward, as if kissing her cheek.

“I killed Robert Svain.”

It was a good thing Nicole had caught on, because Waverly stumbled. Nicole masterfully dipped her to cover the mistep.

Robert Svain -- her sister’s lover. A man some called a hero, but who Waverly knew to be just another monster. Nicole had…had _murdered_ him. Not just dragons, but people, too?

(Would Nicole kill _her_ if she knew the truth?)

“Why tell me this?” Waverly asked in a whisper.

“Because I’m selfish.” Nicole spun her and they came together again, breast to breast. “I want my life. I want to beg on my knees for one chance, _one single chance_ , to show you that this _might_ not be as bad as it seems.”

“And if I decline?”

“Then speak those four words to the Emperor, and you’ll be free.” The song drummed close to an end, and Nicole slowed them both.

“What would happen to you?”

Nicole said nothing. The song ended and they swung to a smooth halt.

“Another thing,” Nicole added so quietly Waverly had to lean forward. “I will _never_ touch you without your permission.”

Waverly wished she believed her. Wished she could fall into this, let herself trust Nicole to catch her, let it be as romantic and wonderful as she hoped. But such things were not for her.

She was to be tied to a Dragonslayer. A _murderer_ of her friends for magic and power. Just thinking about it made Waverly tremble with barely restrained fury, her eyes misting with tears.

Waverly realized they had waited too long. People were staring. “Kiss me, then. Now.”

Nicole obeyed and kissed her lightly on the lips. Waverly had to make up for her hesitance, take it firmer and more believable.

“One chance, Dragonslayer,” Waverly whispered against Nicole’s lips. “I wish you luck, for I hate you with all my heart.”

To her credit, Nicole took the stab to her heart with remarkable grace. She threw herself forward into a bow so her face was hidden from the audience. Soft clapping and polite cheers rose around them.

They both held perfect smiles to the eyes of those around. Nicole offered her arm and Waverly took it.

The night wore on. Waverly kept a smile on her face and said little, instead simply shadowing her wife. She often zoned out to listen to the lilt of foreign languages, hearing them spoken aloud properly at last. Strangers rarely passed through Tombstone. They were kind, yes, and gave her practice. But nothing compared to this.

A voice drifted over her ears and down her back like frigid water.

“Dragonslayer.”

Nicole turned to politely regard Willa Earp. Willa only smiled serenely, as if she hadn’t almost begged for Nicole to choose her instead of Waverly, then thrown a fit.

“May I have a moment alone with my sister?” Willa asked coolly.

Nicole opened her mouth, brow furrowed, before looking to Waverly as if to ask _her_.

Waverly gave a stiff nod, unable to meet Nicole’s gaze.

“One moment,” Nicole said, leading Waverly away from Willa, whose expression turned thunderous the moment Nicole’s back was turned.

Once away, Nicole leaned in to whisper. “Do you really want to talk to her?”

Waverly gaped, surprised at Nicole’s consideration. “I…I _have_ to.”

Nicole glanced back at Willa, who turned into a brilliant smile. Nicole only frowned.

“I can make her leave.”

Oh, what a wonderful idea, but it would only make things far, far worse. To deny Willa would only anger her further, and an angry Willa was...

Waverly lowered her head, and Nicole let out a sigh.

“Call me if you need me, alright?” Nicole murmured. Waverly gave a small nod.

Waverly breathed a sigh of relief as Nicole left, only to be choked by Willa’s presence. Willa watched the retreating back of the Dragonslayer with unbridled disgust. She turned to Waverly, who recognized her expression. It had come with many, many painful memories.

“You almost ruined _everything_ ,” Willa hissed. “What possessed you to be so _stupid_?”

“I..."

“It doesn’t matter. You _know_ what you have to do,” Willa said evenly. She offered Waverly a small, silk-wrapped package. “You have access to the Emperor. The moment you get the chance, you must use it on the both of them.”

Waverly took the package and held it against her breast, thoughts running a mile a minute even as she visibly wilted.

To kill the Emperor and her Dragonslayer (butcher, murderer) wife, becoming one herself?

Or to disobey her family -- and in doing so, sentence _herself_ to death? There was no protection from Willa’s rage that her ‘wife’ could possibly give her. Willa always won. It was better to play along.

A deep, cavernous dread settled in her stomach.

“Even _you_ can’t mess it up,” Willa said in parting, before drifting off malevolently.

Waverly stood by the pond in silence, waiting for anything at all to happen. Anyone to sweep in and save her from this madness she’d been pulled into. Being chosen by a complete stranger. Now, she was tasked with the assassination of said stranger.

Nothing happened. Nobody swooped in.

Waverly drifted over, back to the party, back to Nicole’s side.

“Are you alright?” Nicole asked quietly.

Waverly put on a brave smile and nodded. Nicole seemed to accept it, dropping the subject as another group of people came to congratulate them.

* * *

They were moving through the party, entertaining guests, when attendants kidnapped Waverly. In a whirlwind of activity, and deaf to her questions, she was washed in scented soaps and dressed in alluring silks by giggling attendants.

(Thankfully, they set aside her gift from Willa without so much as a second glance.)

The Palace suite was beautiful.

Waverly thought of the dark, cramped room of Tombstone’s castle and blinked in awe at the bright, open room, the expensive furniture, the sheer ostentatious glamour of it. There was a balcony that overlooked the city, a sitting room adjacent to the main room which held a bed almost the size of her old room.

“What is going on!” Waverly demanded, blushing furiously as the attendants set her on the bed and lit candles.

 _“Does she really not know?”_ one of them asked the other in another language, giggling. They didn’t seem to know Waverly understood.

_“She must! Or she will have a very nice surprise!”_

They vanished before Waverly could hear more. She sat on the bed and stewed in furious embarrassment. She could only hope Nicole kept her word and didn’t touch her -- even though Nicole looked absolutely attractive in that coat, that shirt, that lovely face, those soft lips--

Oh, that’s confusing.

But Waverly’s stomach turned at the thought of the Dragonslayer’s truth of killing Imperius. She gathered a blanket to wrap around herself, then remembered Willa.

Waverly set the blanket down and almost burst into tears. Willa had once told her a powerful lesson when Waverly had sobbed over a boy leaving for the capital.

_Love is weakness. Attraction is holding power over someone else._

If Nicole had truly chosen her because of prophecy, Waverly hoped it meant she might not be interested.

No time to think further--

The door opened, and Nicole entered with a huge sigh. She didn’t seem to notice Waverly and began to take off her coat with hands that fumbled just enough to whisper she was tipsy on wine.

Waverly crept over in the candlelit dark, and, with trembling hands, helped her out of it. Nicole let out another, quieter breath, then turned.

It was worse than Waverly could have imagined.

Nicole looked at her like she was beautiful, precious, a being worthy of awe. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes slightly wide, and she froze completely at the sight of her. Waverly fought back showing her fear.

“Waverly,” Nicole murmured quietly. Her eyes glittered in the dark, searching Waverly’s. “Do you even _want_ this?”

The words held some kind of resonance that Waverly couldn’t quite place.

“Yes, I do,” Waverly forced herself to lie, before remembering the truth about Dragonslayers and the magic they stole:

As a result of her butchery of Imperius, Nicole could _hear_ lies.

Nicole stepped away from her at once, a strange look crossing her face before she turned from Waverly.

“I’ll sleep in the recliner,” Nicole said. She looked…ashamed. “You take the bed.” She gestured to the large gilded wardrobe. “There should be something better to wear for sleep in here.” Waverly didn’t move, still stunned by the sudden change. Nicole’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Waverly, please _never_ lie to me about that _ever again._ ”

“Why don’t you just do it?” Waverly shook her head, baffled beyond reason. “Why not just kiss me like you wanted to?”

Now Nicole was the one confused. Her face fell. “W-what?”

“You’re interested in women, and by the look before, you’re interested in _me. W_ hy not just take it?” Waverly demanded, anger rising in her voice. “Why are you sleeping elsewhere? Are you not a Dragonslayer? Are you not my wife? Then why haven’t you simply taken, simply ordered me to--”

“Because it would be _wrong!”_ Nicole insisted, voice barely below a desperate yell. Waverly’s mouth clicked shut. “It would be _wrong_ . I will _not_ touch you without your permission. Your _explicit_ permission. If you never give it, then I will _never, ever_ touch you.” Nicole breathed hard and pressed fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry for my tone. But Waverly, I would _never_...”

Waverly sat on the edge of the bed, astounded. Nicole actually…Why, the Dragonslayer, the killer, actually seemed to _care_.

What kind of play was this?

But in her tired mind, Waverly could find no benefit of Nicole’s lie. It was quite possible that Nicole was telling the truth.

“I-I may have misjudged you,” Waverly admitted quietly, almost too quiet to be heard. Nicole’s eyes met hers. “I’m…” To say such a thing to a Dragonslayer? Hard. “...sorry.”

“I told the _truth_ , Waverly.” Nicole brought her something more comfortable, more modest, to sleep in. “I want to show you it _can_ be _different_.”

Waverly took the clothing without a word. Nicole vanished into the bathroom.

Her head spun with confused thoughts. Waverly stared down at her hands, unmoving, thoughts buzzing with rejection and fear and a strange kind of relief. But now it was even harder to know that she would _have_ to murder this woman.

Nicole entered the room again, and Waverly snapped from her thoughts.

Without a word, Waverly took her place in the bathroom and marveled at the gilded edges to absolutely everything before changing herself. When she came out, she paused.

True to her word, Nicole had fallen asleep in the recliner.

 _I could do it now,_ Waverly realized. _I could kill her right now._

Waverly stepped around the recliner. She did not unwrap the knife on the nightstand. She did not kill Nicole.

Instead, she slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know you might have a lot of questions and that's intentional. if you have a moment, could you please tell me what you thought? i'm incredibly nervous about this one. thank you!
> 
>  
> 
> up next!! duels?! big sword action!? a DRAGON!? who knows! not me!
> 
> shoutout to the person who donated to my kofi and requested the flaming zweihander! here you go! she wields one! it gets used a lot! hope it doesn't disappoint!
> 
> is the fallen old kingdom just a big, obvious metaphor for the shitty patriarchal fantasy worlds i read in highschool and the empire a metaphor for how much i fucking hate that shit and wish to do better? You're goddamn right it is. praise the gay empire.
> 
> only has two swords and is sad,  
> [@Sensitivepigeon](https://twitter.com/sensitivepigeon)  
> [Sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com/)


	2. The Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Waverly adjusts to her new life, Nicole harbors a terrible secret that could drive her mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again. anyone else crying? I am...
> 
> anyway, I wanna toss a spoiler of my own fic: dolls is a main character and there's no major character death (save for the bad guys maybe). I don't like that your first true intro in this fic is kinda ROUGH but his anger is pretty valid and ironic seeing as [spoiler that you can probably figure out]. anyway haughtdolls brotp for life you'll be seeing a lot of that
> 
> I was told NOT to delete the sexy duel so here it is. sexy duel! waverly meets some grandparents! chrissy nedley living her best life! wheres gus? i have no idea! more big sword action! hope it doesn't disappoint!
> 
> just really sensitive,  
> [@Sensitivepigeon](https://twitter.com/sensitivepigeon)  
> [Sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com/)

Waverly woke without the aches and pains she had become accustomed to. Smooth silk greeted her skin, the blurry daze of a good night’s sleep resting on her bones. She blinked blearily in the light of the sun pouring in from the balcony.

Oh, right. She’d gotten _married_.

To a _Dragonslayer_.

Waverly groaned and rolled over. Her dream faded back from her memory, the soft sounds of friendly Dragons gone with the wind.

Somebody let out a pained noise.

Waverly shot up in bed, scrambling for the reason. There, in the lounge chair, Nicole lay at a horrible angle, face twisted with effort, eyes shut in some horrible nightmare.

Before she could think too hard about it, Waverly found herself across the room, kneeling beside her, murmuring nonsense. She didn’t know why she should ever help the Dragonslayer, just that she would. It was the right thing to do.

“Dragons...” Nicole mumbled.

“Shh.” Waverly wiped away sweat-soaked hair. “Shh, it’s okay.”

 _“Mom…”_ Nicole groaned, fists tight, twisting away from Waverly’s touch.

“Nicole. Wake up.” Waverly tapped her tear-stained cheek. “Wake up. Come on, Nicole.”

Nicole gasped awake, clutching at her arms, panting. Waverly stared back into terrified eyes. A terrible thought occurred to her, in the quiet, whispering cave created by her family:

_What if she’s angry?_

Nicole blinked before wincing with a hiss, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Sorry. I…” She took a deep breath. “Nightmare. Thank you for...for waking me.”

Waverly tried not to let her relief be too obvious. She blushed, noticing Nicole’s bedroom attire, and put an appropriate amount of space between her and her half-naked wife. She made to step briskly away from Nicole, only to spot something that made her heart lurch against her will.

Tears.

Nicole, the Dragonslayer, was crying. Softly, into her arm slung across her eyes, she was _crying_.

Waverly stopped, stunned. She didn’t know what to do. Her heart ached for some terrible reason, seeing the Dragonslayer cry, hidden and secret and alone. So very alone, it seemed, with a wife who hated her.

Unable to do nothing, Waverly wrapped an arm around Nicole. She stiffened, unsure, before melting into Waverly’s embrace to bawl like a child. It was a messy affair. Waverly hushed her with soothing words, rubbing her back over the thin nightshirt, trying her best to make this end, and end _quickly_.

“Sorry,” Nicole said, sniffing as she leaned back, away from Waverly. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine, Nicole.” Waverly resisted the urge to sweep Nicole’s hair from her face. “Are you okay?”

“I am now. I’m…” Nicole shook her head, standing, Waverly rising with her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have...I cried all over you and--”

“It’s fine, I said,” Waverly insisted gently.

Nicole seemed to accept it with a sigh. Quietly, so very softly, “Thank you,” she whispered, eyes honest and far too open. Waverly looked away, feeling a strange jump in her heart.

“You’re welcome, Dragonslayer,” Waverly murmured back. Nicole looked hurt before turning away. Waverly left her standing there as she vanished into the bathroom to wash up for the day.

Inside, alone, behind a closed door, Waverly gave her reflection a hard look.

She was married to a Dragonslayer -- so what? What now?

She needed a _plan_.

The worst part was that Waverly was so far out of her depth here, in the richest part of the Empire, in the heart of things. She needed information. Somebody to tell her the rules of the game before she accidentally broke too many.

First, she had to find that person.

Decided, Waverly returned to the room, fresh and in a simple dress. She passed Nicole without looking.

Nicole took her time washing up, clearing the redness from her eyes and fixing her mussed, sweat-soaked hair. She soaked in the tub as the last vestiges of her nightmare faded back to memory. Why now, of all times, did her well-practiced techniques of avoiding tears fail?

Nicole reluctantly climbed from the bath and dressed in more appropriate clothes, trying her best not to think about it.

“Hey,” Nicole said as she reappeared.

Waverly looked up, her expression guarded. Like she had lived among enemies, not family, all her life.

“Maybe we should talk?” Nicole asked tentatively, unwilling to risk ire. “Attendants will be here soon, but if you’d sit with me before then?”

“I suppose,” Waverly said evenly, not giving anything away.

Nicole pulled out her chair for her before sitting across the table in the sunshine, far enough away to give Waverly some breathing space.

Waverly watched her wife curiously. The woman seemed…unassuming. Nice, even. Kind, possibly, if you stretched your imagination a little.

And there was the matter of Robert’s death. The man Willa had loved. Waverly sat directly across from his self-proclaimed killer.

Nicole didn’t look much like a killer.

But looks could be deceiving. Nicole could have every right and reason to kill Waverly, should she find out the truth.

“I’m…” Nicole let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Waverly. I don’t know what else to say other than that. I didn’t have a choice.”

Waverly said nothing. Nicole gave her a testing glance.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I don’t,” Waverly said, but the multitude of questions she held in that statement went unanswered. Why? Why choose her in the first place? And then -- why this lie about having to?

“If I told you, we’d both be in danger, and I can’t have that,” Nicole said firmly. “I just can’t. Maybe someday. But in the meantime, I--”

“We’re not friends.” Waverly set down her cup. “We’re not going to be friends, ever. You stole my life from me.” Nicole looked away. “You’ve admitted to me you killed a man. Your profession is to take magic from innocent creatures by butchering them. So in the meantime, we can pretend out there. But in here? I despise you.”

Nicole’s face twisted. “ _None_ of the Dragons I’ve killed are innocent.”

“Was Robert?”

Nicole looked like she’d been slapped, but knocks on the door took their attention. Nicole gave her one last glance before standing and opening the door.

Attendants washed over them in a wave, talking about breakfast and measurements and _how beautiful you are, Waverly, let us help you be even more so_ and _you are very, very lucky Nicole, how wonderful._

They were dressed properly, this time Waverly in green and Nicole in blue, before they were required to appear for breakfast. Nicole wore a tight Imperial jacket, the buttons engraved with Dragons. Waverly had her necklace on, declaring her a Dragonslayer’s wife, and another silk dress.

“You’re beautiful,” Nicole said again as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, and again Waverly blushed like a damned fool. But Nicole did look striking in her own outfit, and Waverly blamed that. It would be easier to hate the person who ruined her life if they weren’t so attractive and not very mean at all.

_She’s a murderer!_

The thought extinguished all others.

Nicole opened the door and offered her hand. Waverly forced herself to take with a smile.

They took to the hallways hand in hand, surrounded by attendants, pushing through the buzz of the palace by presence alone. Rushing servants sprinted by, but paused to offer respects. Knights saluted as they passed. Guardsmen patrolling took turns bowing deep at the waist.

Waverly tried her best not to stare back like an idiot. She followed Nicole’s lead in the slight acknowledging bow. and didn’t get yelled at or corrected, so she registered that as win.

The change between being _ignored completely_ to being _revered_ made her anxious to return to the room, back to invisibility. Eyes tracked her with awe, and Waverly straightened her back, resisting the urge to hide in Nicole’s shadow.

The grand dining room had been set aside for breakfast. What appeared to be fellow Dragonslayers all waved, clapped, cheered. Nicole answered with an acknowledging wave.

Waverly’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of someone familiar before she snapped her head forward.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asked.

“I’m fine,” Waverly said. Nicole’s eyebrow almost hit the ceiling, but Waverly let the obviously audible lie stand.

No way she was telling her wife that one of her ex-boyfriends was at the table.

Dragonhunter Champ Hardy.

Not the one she’d cried over, thankfully, but nevertheless, an awkward pain in her side. He had always been a bit _possessive._

Waverly turned her eyes from his direction in time for the Emperor to appear. He didn’t seem to mind Waverly’s astonished expression. He offered his hand to shake, and Waverly hesitantly took it. He smiled at her. Smiled.

Then he _bowed_.

Waverly tried to hide her internal panic as the Emperor himself bowed over her hand.

“Welcome to the family,” the man she was tasked to kill said, “You can call me Dolls.”

“Y-y…” Waverly said eloquently. He only smiled wider before gesturing to the table.

Waverly looked upon the table with awe. There were dozens of types of food, each deserving a paragraph of elaborate description, and her mouth watered already. This was far beyond her usual fare of bread and cheese with a cup of water. This was… _excessive_.

Waverly frowned, thinking of the waste, but people were watching. She established a broad smile that said _I’m a newlywed and exuberantly happy about it._

Nicole matched her and pulled out a chair, ever polite.

“Thank you,” Waverly murmured. Nicole sat beside her with a matching grin and squeezed her hand.

The topic stayed light and bantering as Waverly picked through her food. It was delicious in every sense of the word. The eggs were fluffy, the bread sweet, the fruit bursting in color and fresh from the garden.

And Waverly could feel Champ’s eyes on her the whole time. She leaned over, closer to Nicole. _I’m taken_ , it said silently.

Champ didn’t listen, only seemed to stare harder. Nicole, caught up in a story, didn’t notice.

Fuck it.

Waverly leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Nicole dropped her sweet roll in shock, glancing at her with wide eyes. It turned into a grin when Waverly reminded her of the audience by squeezing her hand.

Everyone at the table laughed, gently teasing at how _adorable_ it was. Champ’s expression turned dangerous. Waverly leaned even closer into Nicole, almost on top of her, fear riding on her shoulders.

“You okay?” Nicole murmured in her ear. “Something’s bothering you.”

Waverly debated internally the pros and cons, before again deciding _fuck it._

“My ex is six seats down from Nedley and he keeps staring.”

“Oh.” Nicole didn’t so much as glance at him. “Is there anything you want me to do?” Waverly shook her head slightly. “Even if it's just to keep us away from him?”

“That would be nice.”

“I can do that,” Nicole said with a smile, resting her hand on Waverly’s. “But we have to be around after while we hand out food.”

“While we what?”

Nicole tilted her head. “Oh. Just wait, you’ll see.”

By the time the opportunity to learn what Nicole had meant came, Champ had vanished with one last cold glance to Nicole. Waverly shivered before the table suddenly stood at once.

Turns out ‘hand out food’ meant _literally_ handing out food. The Dragonslayers lead the way down the steps of the palace, carting the remains of food, most of it untouched, to the forum below. They set aside the table and called forward.

Dozens of citizens came one at a time, patiently waiting for food. Waverly tried not to stare. They all looked…clean. Not at all like back home. Their eyes weren’t filled with the wild, starving terror she was used to.

One hesitated, unsure, and Waverly hurried over to help. She could feel Nicole’s eyes on her back but ignored it, instead helping a few others gather the courage to take some food for themselves.

After all the food had gone, Nicole took her aside.

“Now I hold court,” Nicole explained, gesturing to the group of people waiting outside the palace proper.

“While I stand there and look pretty?”

Nicole winced.

Waverly rolled her eyes, gesturing for Nicole to just _go._

They walked, hand in hand, the perfect smiling couple, out of the palace proper. The grand entrance opened to a bustling forum populated by magistrates, nobles, and the ones who petitioned them. Waverly braced herself mentally, remembering how many flocked to Robert, even though he was no true Dragonslayer, and how he had brushed them off.

People caught sight of Nicole and moved in a wave.

Nicole stopped. Waverly watched in confusion as Nicole waited, listening, to the overwhelming rush of words.

“Dragonslayer, the merchant’s guild--”

“The bandits, Dragonslayer--“

“Honored one, we need your help in West Cliff--”

The rush of words grew loud before Nicole raised a hand, quieting them with only a simple motion. Two servants flanked her at the ready as she began to speak to the petitioners one by one.

“Go to the Magistrate,” Nicole said to a ragged looking man complaining about taxes, writing down a letter, “Speak with this man and tell him I sent you. He’ll listen.”

The man vanished in bows of thanks and another took his place. Another, another, another. Nicole never tired, never complained, and never rushed anyone their words.

“Send this order to House Gardner’s city representative,” Nicole instructed a servant. “Tell him of the bandits, and if he brushes you off, I’ll come.”

“The bandits are getting worse!” yelled a man. Others nodded in agreement. “The Far Northerners are causing strain on our resources. More and more people are desperate, Dragonslayer. What does the Emperor intend to _do_?”

Nicole paused, eyes widening ever so slightly. She obviously was at a loss. Waverly bit her lip, considering, thinking of her father’s policies. How he held raucous feasts while people starved.

 _“Listen to me now, you’ll understand,”_ he’d said with a sick smile when she asked him why. “ _Those people out there hate us, will always hate us, no matter what we do. They live enough as is. They don’t need more. And this way, we keep them under control.”_

Now she could do something about it. Dragonslayers were the chosen of the Emperor, and Waverly was the chosen of a Dragonslayer. Time to _use_ that power.

“House Earp will respond,” Waverly said. The entire crowd fell silent to listen to her, and she blushed furiously but didn’t back down. “We have abundance. We will take more of the burden.”

Nicole looked at her with pure, open shock.

The crowd bowed and cooed to her, honoring the Dragonslayer’s wife. It made Waverly flush with embarrassment. She’d never been paid this much attention, and it was overwhelming how they pushed forward, trying to touch her, and Waverly shrank back, claustrophobic. Then Nicole was there at her side, holding her arms gently to ground her. The flood of relief drowned the tension in her body, and she leaned back into Nicole. Bizarrely, it made her feel safe.

“Easy, friends,” Nicole said with an easy smile. “She’s from the North. You know how they are about space.”

The crowd laughed good-naturedly and backed off, still offering Waverly thanks. Nicole leaned over as they walked off out of the forum.

Waverly wondered if her words held any weight. She made to ask Nicole, but Nicole spoke first.

“House Earp has food?” Nicole asked in a low whisper. “But the reports--”

“He’s been lying.” Waverly’s face twisted with fury. Nicole’s echoed the same, and Waverly eyed her curiously as they walked through the great gates back to the palace. Nicole had listened. Not only that, she had _done_ something for them.

“I am more and more impressed by you each passing day,” Nicole said, catching Waverly off guard. “I never expected such bravery from--”

“Someone so weak?”

“Oh, Waverly Earp.” Nicole beamed, full dimples on display as if Waverly had told a fantastic joke. As if Waverly _deserved_ such a smile. “You are many things, but weak is not one of them. I’ll let the Emperor know, and--”

Nicole stopped, pressing a hand to her head and groaning. Waverly paused and settled a hand against her arm, bracing her.

“Are you alright?” Waverly asked, beyond confused.

“I…” Nicole winced further, almost bending double with the pain. “I need to go back to the room. Take me back to the room, please.”

Waverly hesitated.

" _Please_ , Waverly!"

“Okay, okay,” Waverly assured, gently leading Nicole up the steps and through the halls. They drew further stares and murmurs at Nicole’s state of distress. Waverly ignored them, focused on Nicole's pain, taking her quickly back to the room.

* * *

Back in the room, Nicole’s condition worsened. She could barely stand on her own, leaning on Waverly until they hit the bed. Nicole flopped down bonelessly on it, groaning, and hid her face among the pillows.

“What can I do?”

“I think I just need to be alone for a while,” Nicole mumbled. She couldn’t stand the thought of opening her eyes and seeing the hundred possibilities of that moment.

Footsteps as Waverly left. Nicole let out a sigh as a headache thundered in her skull.

Nicole held a secret.

A dangerous secret. The type of secret, secrety secret, that would get her into far too much trouble for it to be known by anyone other than herself and one other person.

Or, to be absolutely clear, _Dragon._

Imperius was alive.

(In a way.)

Her soul existed still. _Inside_ Nicole.

Such a thing never happened. It should be silence from the dead soul lingering inside and the crushing weight of magic, with the burden only lifted by someone volunteering to share it.

But no. Imperius’s soul lived on, even though it was fading.

Whenever the dead Dragon felt the need to speak, Nicole would be forced to listen to the crushing presence in her mind and taste fire as whatever brilliant comment made itself known across her psyche.  

Nicole turned and lay staring up at the ceiling as Imperius made herself known by banging the mental equivalent of pots and pans.

 _‘She is a friend to us,’_ said a gentle feminine voice. ‘ _And yet you have not told her of her duty.’_

“No, I won’t,” Nicole whispered aloud, “She’s a friend to _you_ , but not to me.”

_‘You risk madness.’_

“I’m not risking putting her in danger.” Nicole shut her eyes, ignoring the ghostly images of the future. An endless amount of possibilities all running together into a jumbled mess she couldn’t make sense of. “I already stole her future. I’m not doing it again. She volunteers, or nothing.”

_‘It’s possible she doesn’t know.’_

“Then she’ll never believe me if I say anything.”

The presence left, feeling disappointed. Nicole tried not to take it personally that there was a disappointed Dragon soul inside of her that would slowly drive her mad. It was just the fact of the matter.

She just had to be careful not to make any dumb decisions.

* * *

Waverly stepped out of the room and almost ran right into another person. She was tall and wore an Imperial-style tunic and breeches, hair done up in a ponytail with a broad grin on her face.

She saluted sloppily.

“Hi!” she said spritely, offering her hand. “Chrissy Nedley. Imperial Strategist.”

“Hi.” Waverly took the hand cautiously. Chrissy shook it with enthusiasm.

“I’ve been meaning to meet you!” Chrissy waved her forward, walking. Waverly followed. “I’m here to show you around the place and beat Gus to it. And, I was hoping we could be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yeah. _Friends_ .” Chrissy looked at her strangely, but Waverly was too busy caught up in the idea of being friends. Real life buddies. She could already feel herself getting too eagerly attached to the idea. _Slow down_ , she told herself.

Too late. Waverly had a spring in her step as Chrissy gave her the grand tour.

They walked the claustrophobic halls and passed bustling servants and bickering nobles. Each time, they paused and bowed or saluted depending on their allegiances. It was easy to tell who still held to the Old Kingdom (giving her a singular nod and perfunctory bows) and who held to the Empire (deep bows and inspiring salutes).

“Rude!” Chrissy called after a man who didn't bow. “It’s like he doesn’t remember when Dragons attacked us daily or something.”

Waverly said nothing, hoping Chrissy wouldn’t continue. She didn’t.

They exited to the main gardens and passed many enjoying the midday sun. A cluster of older folk stood conversing in the shade, Dragon scales glittering on their necklaces.

“Hey! Some friends!” Chrissy said, pointing, leading Waverly like a lamb to the slaughter.

They turned, a few frowning at Waverly in a way she recognized. Assessment. Their eyes weighed her worth. One discounted her outright, but the others had a pall of jealousy that Waverly didn’t quite understand.

“Madame Crofte,” an older woman introduced herself. Waverly felt dizzy, trying to remember her instructions on houses, then realized it was useless. They had the house name of their Dragonslayers, just like she did.

Waverly took the hand. “Waverly...” she caught herself. “...Haught.”

“You get used to it.” She smiled politely and gestured to the others, all probably three times Waverly's age. “Madame Shapiro, Madame Chetri, and Sir Bustillos.”

Chetri Waverly knew of -- Who didn’t? It was one of the major houses and most responsible for the advance of Universities in most of the other cities. Shapiro rang a vague bell, and Waverly completely blanked on Crofte and Bustillos. The order of houses was very finicky and tended to be adhered to strictly. Waverly hadn’t the faintest idea where she stood.

Madame Chetri greeted her warmly, like an equal, and swept her up in a grandmotherly hug. Waverly noted the way Bustillos and Shapiro seemed rather jealous of the attentions, almost wary. It was safe to assume Haught was rather high.

“You simply must meet my grandson,” Madame Chetri cooed. “You would be fast friends. Little Jeremy has some trouble, and---”

“Meet my daughter, Rosita, please,” Sir Bustillos interrupted. “She is a wonderful alchemist--”

“Eliza is an expert fighter. Sure to--”

All of their words ran together in a confused jumble. At first, Waverly was confused--she was _married_. Then she realized, with all their frenzy and words, they were trying to curry favor with House Haught.

Chrissy saved her the trouble of answering.

“Please, if you would excuse us,” Chrissy insisted, leading Waverly away. “Gotta show her the rest of the palace!”

The four of them bowed politely as Waverly left. It was curious. They seemed...  happy.

More hallways and dining rooms, exquisite suites, and beautiful balconies. The kitchens were bustling and hot, a few sweets pressed into Waverly’s hands by adoring servants, and the library…

_Massive._

Chrissy let Waverly stare in awe at the stacks upon stacks of books. Heaven to her, even if it was just another part of her prison. She wouldn’t have to smuggle books anymore. The librarian bowed deeply at the waist and promised that any book was hers to see.

“Any?” Waverly asked in amazement. The knowledge in these walls…

“Any at all,” the librarian confirmed, and Waverly almost cried then and there.

Chrissy smiled and gave her a half-hug. “You wanna stay here and read?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your tour…”

Chrissy laughed. “Waves. Go ahead.”

And just like that, Waverly had a friend.

* * *

Nicole found Lord Earp in her sitting room. She silently thanked Chrissy for being so clever as to take Waverly elsewhere. A flicker of rage lit in her heart, seeing him there, his face cold before it faded behind a polite mask.

 _This_ was the man responsible for failing Waverly. For making her so cautious. For dimming her light.

“Dragonslayer,” he said with a bow. “I've been meaning to speak with my daughter. _To congratulate her.”_

The lie rang through the air, and a thundering presence almost brought Nicole to her knees.

 _‘He lies! His heart holds only violence for our Waverly!_ ‘ Imperius roared,  _‘Dispose of him!’_

No. Nicole would not resort to killing.

“Dragonslayer… your _eyes…_ ” He took a step back, raising his arm protectively as Nicole loomed over him.

“I never want to see you here ever again,” Nicole said quietly, voice dangerously steady.

“I _only_ wish to…” He turned furious, his voice rising. “You can't forbid me to speak with my daughter, Dragonslayer! _She’s family!”_

Nicole took a single step forward. He flinched.

“I can and will,” Nicole said coldly. “Is that clear?”

“I...you can't…” he stammered, backing away.

“Get out.”

Nicole didn’t raise her voice once, but he fled just the same.

* * *

Only a few minutes later, Nicole found herself on the floor.

She remembered the moments before only vaguely. The swirling, sudden vibrancy of their shared room. Nicole stood, swaying, listening to a hundred words running over each other at the same time.

Waverly stood, sat, lay in the room all at once. Nicole shook her head, spinning, eyes tracking hundreds of versions of Waverly.

_“Haven’t you decided…”_

_“Maybe today you can…”_

_“I hate you!”_

_“There’s nothing you can do anymore…”_

_“When will you learn?”_

Nicole pressed her hands to her head, groaning in agony as the words turned into a riot of nonsense. She closed her eyes to the views of Waverly and fell to her knees. The magic burned inside her head, scorching her thoughts, making her throat tight and her lungs feel charred with each breath.

Then her brain simply gave up, blanking, and she fell into unconsciousness.

Chrissy found her groaning on the floor, curled up, one hand pressed against her face. She managed to lug Nicole over to the bed before throwing her on it.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” Chrissy demanded. Nicole only groaned. “It’s burning you.”

“Yes.”

“You’re an idiot.” Chrissy grabbed a cloth, wet it, and gently set it against Nicole’s face. “You can’t do this, Nicole. You’ll go _mad_ . The Dragon may have chosen you and all that weird hero stuff, but the result seems to be even _worse_ .”

“The other option isn’t an option.”

“Then let me tell her the truth!”

“And would she believe you?” Nicole asked, voice tired. “Would she really? Or would she hate me even more for trying to…to _force_ her to be my friend. I have to do this. Maybe one day she’ll be able to help me, but until then…”

“You’re going to go mad.” Chrissy huffed in frustration. “You’re just going to let yourself go mad instead of telling her.”

“She wouldn’t believe me!” Nicole shouted before remembering herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“I know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe she wouldn’t, but maybe she would. It’s better than this. It won’t be long before you make a stupid mistake.” Chrissy let out an exasperated sigh. “You have a meeting, too. So please, please, please let your mistake happen another time and _not_ before the Emperor.”

* * *

An hour later, Nicole stood before the Emperor, hands resting behind her back.

Dolls didn’t look up from the expansive map of the Old Kingdom that rose and fell with engraved mountains. The Imperial Palace rested in the center, around the curve of a river, the Sun from which the noble houses spread out beside like rays. In a pure stroke of irony, House Haught’s slice of land was directly opposite to House Earp.

Dolls finally looked up. “Sorry.”

“It was no wait at all,” Nicole murmured respectfully, unsure of how to handle this interaction now that one of them was Emperor.

Dolls gave her a strange glance but changed the subject.

“Lord Earp is on his way.” Dolls walked over to the window, staring out at the city spread beneath them. “I have to use this to my advantage, Nicole. To the _Empire’s_ advantage.”

Nicole bit back a comment and nodded at his glance.

“Send him in!” Dolls called.

The doors opened with a bang, and the cold form of Lord Earp strode into the room with his back straight. He eyed Nicole with barely hidden hate before bowing low to Dolls. Nicole worried for a moment he might topple over, but he managed to stand back up. “Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Lord Earp,” Dolls greeted neutrally. “Thank you for meeting me.”

He smiled crookedly as if he was doing him a favor. “My pleasure. What have we to discuss?”

The disrespect burned through Nicole and she ground her teeth at the sound of a lie. Dolls only took it in stride, approaching the map again.

“The refugees.” He gestured to the valley held on Earp land. “They need passage through your land. Yours sits on one of their paths.”

“As I said before, I can’t just let _anyone_ into our kingdom, they could be _thieves_ \--”

“We’ve solved that problem.” Dolls looked to Nicole, who cleared her throat and stepped forward. “Dragonslayer Haught has been gracious enough to offer the dispatch of forces to help ensure the refugees safe passage with little violence on either side.”

Lord Earp floundered and laughed nervously, looking between the two and rubbing his jaw. “I can’t just let a foreign power into my lands, now can I?”

The barb at Dolls only resulted in a small smile. “Foreign? House Haught is now tied permanently to yours. You’re allied, now. They would be in your command. Or would you deny their assistance and the consolidation of power?”

Nicole adjusted her stance so she loomed over the Lord Earp, eyes hard. He almost seemed to shrink in the presence of a Dragonslayer, conqueror of god-like beasts, and someone he very much did not want to piss off. His own people would riot.

“Aha,” he managed nervously as some dim part of his brain registered he was well and truly trapped. “Aha, no, of course not -- I was merely -- I will accept this kind gift at once, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Smart.

“It’s also come to my attention that you’ve been hoarding food,” Dolls said evenly, propping himself over the table, eyebrow raised. “Care to explain?”

The Lord Earp froze, surprise plain on his face. He squirmed under Dolls' hard stare.

“I-I, I haven’t --”

“Fix it,” Dolls commanded.

“I will, Your Majesty, obviously there’s been some kind of mistake, some kind of--” His eyes flicked to Nicole. “Some _miscalculation…_ but I will fix the problem at once, of course.”

“Then this meeting is concluded. Thank you, Lord Earp, for your generous service.”

“Of course, of course,” he said, tugging on his collar as he bowed a bit lower than strictly necessary, stepping toward the door to flee. “Anything for Your Imperial Majesty, anything at all…”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Dolls turned, eyes narrowed. “It’s time we talked.”

Nicole braced herself, but it wasn’t enough.

“We’re on the verge of civil war,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief, “and you _married_ the _enemy_.”

“Waverly is _not_ an enemy,” Nicole argued back, ignoring proper decorum. “She has nothing--”

“She has _everything_ to do with it.”

Nicole heard his truth and winced, shaking her head. “No.”

“Then ask her.” Dolls crossed his arms as Nicole’s face fell. “You won’t do it. Because you already know she’ll lie to you.”

“Stop,” Nicole pressed a hand to her head, another headache rumbling on the horizon.

“You can hear them, can’t you? Lies?” Dolls took a step forward. _“Waverly Earp has nothing to do with the rebellion.”_

The discordant tone was jarring, painful.

“Stop.” Nicole shook her head, almost taking a step back, knowing that Dolls believed his statements to be absolutely false.

_“Waverly Earp is not planning to kill the both of us when she has the chance!”_

_“Stop!”_ Nicole shouted, her brain aflame with pain.

“It’s true, you can hear it!” Dolls thundered. “And you brought _death_ into my _house!”_

Nicole snapped.

“Duel me,” Nicole challenged, knowing Dolls would never in a million years decline, not caring that a Dragonslayer dueling the Emperor, old friends or no, would be a horrendous mistake.

“ _Fine_.”

* * *

They spent an hour preparing. A duel between two knights was a simple affair, but between two Dragonslayers who held the power of those they killed was _infinitely_ more complicated. They were handed magically-blunted great swords and magic-crafted leather, the attendants praying it would last long enough for the duel. They both would have faceless helmets for safety, and colored cloth announcing their identity.

Her helmet was shaped like a bird.

“Cool,” Nicole said, inspecting the craftsmanship she was about to ruin.

“ _Very_ cool,” the attendant corrected.

They lead her out into the training ring of the palace and awaited the Emperor.

Dolls came without finery, wearing the same training leather as Nicole, save for his dragon-styled helmet. He batted away further attentions from his attendants with a kind word of thanks before turning serious.

“You really want to do this?” Dolls asked.

Nicole nodded once.

He dropped into a low defensive stance. “Then let’s do it.”

They began.

Dolls' mistake was allowing Nicole to adjust to the new weight and power of the training sword. He patiently backstepped her first testing swings. Nicole’s gratefulness turned to a kind of burning embarrassed fury. Her swings grew more practiced, steady, and she advanced on him relentlessly.

The first blow landed ten minutes into the duel.

Nicole began to lose her mind at twenty.

* * *

Waverly received Willa in one of the grand sitting rooms, uncomfortable in the beautiful Imperial-style chair. The Old Ways were being thrown out one by one -- but yet Dragon slaughter remained and had been venerated further.

“She threatened to kill father if he spoke to you,” Willa said, examining her nails. Waverly’s eyes widened before she wiped the expression away. “What a brute.”

Waverly said nothing. She hated how Willa’s presence made her feel so small and just like a little girl again. Some part of her bloomed in relief that her father couldn’t touch her here. Against her will, part of her was grateful for Nicole’s protection.  

“Well. I’ve finally come up with a plan that revolves around your stupidity.”

Waverly lowered her head, bracing herself.

“Next time she fights a Dragon, you make sure she loses. If you don’t, we’ll simply kill the both of you.”

Waverly shut her eyes, turning away her face as a sense of doom settled over her. Did the Dragonslayer truly deserve death?

Waverly thought of the few widows who haunted the palace, drifting endlessly like wraiths. That wasn’t freedom. And she thought of Nicole lying dead on the ground, and found no solace in the feeling. Nicole _was_ a murderer, yes, but Waverly was more and more sure that she didn’t deserve to _die._

Before she could think further or respond, the door slammed open.

“Waverly!” Chrissy said, bursting into the room. She rushed over to Waverly, ignoring Willa completely. “Waverly, you _have_ to stop her.”

“What?” Waverly asked, alarmed, “What do you mean?”

“She’s dueling the Emperor.”

* * *

_“Take back what you said about my wife!”_ Nicole demanded. Dolls circled, changing his stance.

 _“I’ll never speak kindly of traitors!”_ Dolls said in another possible future.

“Nicole, calm down!” he said in the present.

Nicole roared and took the bait, rushing forward with a broad, sweeping strike. He deflected easily and moved back out of her reach. She had just exhausted herself further for nothing.

Something within her burned, taking away her thought, taking away her coherence. All she knew was fury and rage and the smell of smoke.

The duel had brought an audience.

Hundreds had packed in around the fence, sitting or standing room only, to behold a Dragonslayer dueling the Emperor. Was this treason? Would there be an election held instead? Either way, it was wonderful to watch two masters go back and forth. A Dragonslayer’s duel was always wonderful but between the Emperor and his strongest?

There was plenty of popcorn.

Nicole would have had an easier time if she just allowed her magic to help her. She stubbornly refused, batting away the lines that showed her where Dolls would strike. She could already tell in the tensing of his boot that he would lunge.

He did.

They clashed in a clamor of steel. They were evenly matched; the fight had gone long enough for both to have dozens of dents in the dueling leather and their swords battered to almost nothing.

They parted again, dancing.

“Focus!” Dolls panted. “Listen to me, Nicole! You need to _stop!”_

Nicole said nothing, hearing thousands of words, seeing thousands of possibilities. She could barely tell up from down. All she knew was that she was _furious,_ and the man before her was _competition_. No longer could she tell her visions from reality. Inevitably, her magic seeped into her awareness and her moves.

Waverly arrived, skirts hoisted, steps behind Chrissy. The sparring arena lay at the foot of a hill, a circle of dirt cleared for partners to battle and train.

Waverly descended the steps (much easier without the clunky heels she was used to) and made her way through the crowd. The men and women, though rough with dirt, all parted with respectful nods, almost embarrassed at their own state.

“Madame Haught,” someone important greeted. Waverly winced.

Waverly’s heart stopped. There, in the sun, Nicole dueled the Emperor.

Waverly had seen enough violence. Purgatory and the land surrounding it was wrought with desperate folk and inefficient lawmen. She’d seen men hang and men fight and men kill each other. Nicole was no different, despite being a woman. No different at all.

No different in the way her movements seemed like dancing, seemed calculated and elegant even as they were wild. The sword floated through the air as if it weighed nothing at all. The strength in those arms, the power of those muscles… Waverly stared in awe as Nicole executed another perfect swing, catching the Emperor’s leg as he retreated.

Her leathers accentuated her lithe form, and Nicole rolled out of the way of another strike. Waverly’s heart skittered ridiculously while she watched Nicole sweep her leg out, trying to catch the Emperor.

He jumped back in time. Nicole lunged, another storm of strikes unleashed with precise, powerful movements.

Still, the Emperor weathered the storm of blows with remarkable strength.

“He’s a Dragonslayer, too,” Chrissy told her. “He could take a million blows before cracking, but Nicole…”

Nicole was always two strikes ahead of him, raining her blows where she knew he’d never defend in time.

“Nicole can see the future.”

“Can’t she see me stopping her?” Waverly asked, hesitating.

“She probably could, if she was paying attention.” Chrissy shook her head. “It’s likely she has no idea what she’s doing.”

The fury that would result. The strike of a hand. Would she really risk that for some Emperor’s honor?

“Please,” Chrissy begged. “She’s looking like a traitor in front of the whole of the Empire. She can’t do this. This duel can’t end either way.”

“Why me?” Waverly asked, shrinking away at her thoughts. “Why?”

“You’re the _only one_ who could stop her now. She’s in a rage. The soul inside her is burning. She’s barely coherent, and going to win if you don’t stop her.”

 _Barely coherent._ Waverly felt ill.

“Please, Waverly.” Chrissy asked, using a sad face Waverly had trouble saying no to.

“I-I can’t, she’ll be so furious with me, she--”

“No, she won’t.” Chrissy leaned in, taking Waverly’s hand. “Trust me. She won’t.”

Waverly braced herself for pain, and stepped forward into the ring. Deja vu. The Dragonslayers clashed again with shouts of equal rage.

“Nicole,” Waverly said uselessly, voice wavering in front of hundreds.

Nicole didn’t hear her. All she heard was Dolls, hundreds of thousands of times, each saying a variation of the phrase “traitor.”

 _“Come on, Nicole.” Dolls gestured wide in another possible future._ _“Duel me before the entire Empire. Duel me over your Earp wife.”_

Nicole tossed away her sword.

Then she charged, yelling, and tackled him to the dirt.

“Take it back!” Nicole said, trying to punch at him. He caught her hand and twisted in her grip, making her rain of blows almost obsolete.

Like children again, squabbling in the dirt over a girl. They rolled and roiled as half the Palace watched.

“Nicole!” someone shouted.

Nicole raged on, raining blow after blow upon the Emperor. He struggled in the dust to stop her.

Waverly grew annoyed. What a fool. What an idiot. Dueling the Emperor before his subjects, making him look like a weakling.

The Emperor surged upward and they each came to their feet, prowling in a circle, waiting for the next collision.

Nicole blinked. Waverly. She kept seeing Waverly in her mind, the thousands of possibilities. Waverly was here. Wa--

Dolls lunged forward and caught her, taking her to the ground and repaying each blow with his own. Nicole held him at bay just barely before socking him square in the face, sending him to the side.

 _“Nicole, stop this at once!”_ a furious and familiar voice called. Waverly. Waverly was there, watching her.

Nicole froze.

Dolls took her down again and held her there.

“I yield!” Nicole announced.

“Of course you do,” he said heavily, before climbing off her. Nicole rose, almost moving to follow him and take him out again, before sense returned with clamoring alarm bells.

Uh.

Did she really just try to duel the Emperor?

Nicole looked around, befuddled, at the hundreds watching her.

“Shit,” she breathed. “Shit, oh shit.”

Oops.

“Nicole," Waverly said, anger clear in her voice.

“Waverly?” Nicole asked in confusion, turning. Waverly made her way across the dueling arena to where she stood.

Waverly felt a stir of her own rage at her wife. This whole charade had cost her a chance to appease her sister’s rage, and for what? To watch Nicole make a mockery of herself before the Empire?

She almost forgot all about her earlier fear.

“You are a complete--” Waverly swallowed her next words as the faceless helmet turned to her full on, paling in fear. She froze, a sad sound dying on her throat, mind flashing back to her family and what truly came of anger. That brutal clashing duel had been the best of it, consensual, but now, with the audience departing…

Waverly braced herself.

Nicole took off her helmet, sweat crawling down her face. “I’m sorry,” she said dejectedly, head lowered. “I made a mistake.”

Waverly was so surprised she said nothing at all. Nicole stepped past her, making her way to the cool shade of the armory to return her battered gear. Waverly stood, blinking, and stared after her. She caught eyes of some of the people still watching, waiting for her to act as a dutiful wife would.

Waverly picked up her skirts and rushed after her wife. Nicole had made it halfway to the armory, and sighed as Waverly caught up.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Nicole said quietly.

Waverly had a strange trouble with her words. Nicole looked...strangely attractive. All sweaty and hot from fighting--dancing. It was like dancing. Waverly felt a curious flutter in her chest when brown eyes flicked to her.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asked, head tilting curiously. It made her look _adorable._

“Are you?” Waverly asked, turning it on her and batting away her strange thoughts. “That looked harsh.”

Nicole let out a small laugh. “Probably bruised in a dozen places.”

_Show me those places._

Wait, what?

Waverly shook the weird thoughts from her head as they reached the armory. Attendants swarmed Nicole, helping her out of her armor, gifting her cool towels. Waverly eyed them suspiciously.

There was one who kept staring.

Waverly took the towel from her hand. “Let me.” The attendant bowed and left the pair, tossing Nicole one last glance _as if her wife wasn’t right there, excuse me_.

Nicole didn’t seem to notice, only leaned back with a grateful sigh as Waverly toweled her muscular, glistening back.

_Shut up._

Her mind stubbornly refused as Nicole lifted her arms to fix her hair, the biceps flexing in a way that made Waverly stare dumbly.

This was impossible. She was attracted to boys. _Only_ boys.

(Or… maybe not. Maybe she wanted to replace the towel with her mouth on clean, hot skin, and have those arms hold her close. Protecting her...)

 _Impossible,_  she repeated to herself, focusing on her work. It made no difference, anyway. There would be no holding close and hugs. Not with a Dragonslayer. _Ever._

“Why did you duel him?” Waverly asked curiously. Nicole shook her head. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Nicole said quietly.

“Oh.” Waverly set the towel aside. “But Chrissy said you were incoherent.”

“She did?”

“Yes. She said you were in a rage, and the soul inside you is burning.”

“Chrissy…” Nicole shook her head. “There are some things I can’t explain to you right now.”

“Fine.” Waverly set the towel down hard. “Be secretive, Dragonslayer.” She stalked away, leaving Nicole behind, a riot of feelings deep in her heart.

One thing was certain in all of this confusion: the Dragonslayer was not her friend.

* * *

 

The next morning, loud, repetitive knocks roused Nicole. She stumbled in the early morning into the sitting room and pulled open the door.

“Nicole!” Chrissy said, panting. “Men from home came to invite you to celebrate, but they also came with bad news.”

Chrissy stared into Nicole’s eyes, wild with panic.  
“There’s a _Dragon_.”  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gus just straight up vanished from this draft its like canon
> 
> I bet you have a lot more questions! could you please toss me a comment with your thoughts? it would really help!!
> 
> on the next episode of TOSWTDII, we travel to fantasy canada. wynonna shows up. dolls/haught return to brotp! so much wayhaught!! things happen!! a whole lot of things happen! might take me a bit longer, seeing as some of these scenes were already written and chapter 3 im writing from scratch, yo, all the stuff i have written takes place in the city,
> 
> come follow me on twitter for wholesome pigeon content,  
> [@Sensitivepigeon](https://twitter.com/sensitivepigeon)  
> [Sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com/)


	3. The Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life sucks!! a situation came up that prevented me from going to ehcon. thanks all for your support. im pretty heartbroken & depressed so if you liked this chapter i would really appreciate your comment.
> 
> @con goers: if you see emily andras tell her i said hi. have a great time!!
> 
>  _uhh pidge is someone gonna explain how the magic works?_ ya gonna have to wait for the one person who understands magic to show up. the better question is why are the eggs described as 'fluffy' and it's because i honestly don't know how else to describe them please help me
> 
> The dragons are a metaphor for dragons. I just like dragons. Sorry if you thought they were a metaphor for anything other than dragons
> 
> here's some gay shit!! they travel!! somebody shows up (finally)!
> 
> thank you Haughtpocket and Iamthegaysmurf for beta!
> 
> the dragons are lesbians! the swords are lesbians! there is no escaping the lesbians  
> [@Sensitivepigeon](https://twitter.com/sensitivepigeon)  
> [Sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com/)

Nicole had a problem.

A big one.

Nicole’s problem was that the woman whose life she ruined at the behest of a Dragon -- the woman who hated her -- was _beautiful_ . But not _just_ beautiful. She had proven herself kind, smart, and brave. Waverly enchanted her like nothing else.

Okay, so Nicole was a little bit--just a little, mind you--sort of, kind of, maybe already falling in love with the woman who despised her.

And it _hurt_.

Nobody told her it would hurt this _badly_ . Nicole found herself so desperate for the sight of Waverly’s smile, she planned opportunities and plotted new plans of attack. Stopping Waverly from killing her was certainly nice, but seeing her smile--wide and happy and not shadowed like it always was--oh, that would be _wonderful_.

To see her unburdened from the demands of her family. To see her safe and brilliantly shining, all of her there instead of hidden away.

To see her _free_.

But every time she came even somewhat close to catching a glimpse of happiness, Waverly would call her _Dragonslayer_ and banish all thoughts of changing her mind. It would remind her that Nicole was no better than her family: Just another thing tying her down.

How could she, the person Waverly hated _,_ possibly accomplish something like making her _smile?_

Nicole walked to the balcony, leaning her head on her hand and thinking of nothing but Waverly. Waverly, Waverly.

Soon, the horns would sound and she would get to show Waverly her homeland. Well, eventually to be hers, after Nedley passed it on. Oh, boy. Ruling her own slice of land was intimidating. But maybe, with someone’s help, someone brilliant beside her...

Oh, such dreams were distant. Impossible, even. For someone who had always wanted a family, Nicole had _completely_ ruined her chances.

The horns began to sound.

A yelp and a thunk took her attention. Nicole turned to spot Waverly groaning on the floor, having been so surprised she fell off the bed.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asked.

“M’fine!” Waverly said from the floor, picking herself up. “I’m fine. Why are there horns?”

“Those are _our_ horns.” Nicole gestured, and Waverly joined her at the balcony. Nicole swept her hand toward the stables, where a fury of blue and gold was building. “We’re going to my home. There’s a Dragon there I need to take care of, as well as a celebration. You’re invited.”

Waverly paused, considering. “A celebration….”

“Of our marriage.”

Waverly frowned. “Oh. Right. That…happened.”

“It did,” Nicole confirmed. “Do you want to come?”

“To watch you butcher a Dragon?” Nicole winced. Waverly crossed her arms and looked away. “Maybe it would be nice to see something other than these walls,” Waverly conceded.

“Oh.” Nicole brightened. “Oh, there’s so much I can show you! There’s the city and my house, and--well, I guess it’s your house now--and the _beautiful_ vineyards--  and you’re shutting the door in my face now. Right.”

The door slammed shut. Nicole let out a defeated sigh.

Hopefully, her plan would work.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t get to pack. Dozens of attendants did. Waverly looked in awe as her things were sorted and most clothing replaced outright. Out with the old travel dresses with ill stitching. Now she wore brilliant greens and blues out of beautiful magic-woven cloth.

Nicole stepped to her side, lowering to whisper. “Can I show you something?”

Waverly hesitated a moment but nodded. Nicole led her outside of the palace, ignoring her questions, insisting that the place was a store. They left the higher class quarter of the city and went out into the market streets. Here, the press of people became almost overwhelming. People just felt free to brush up against each other.

Nicole stopped again, but this time under a brightly colored sign. She peered up at it, grinning, and waited for Waverly’s response.

A bookstore.

Waverly eyed the fantastic-themed sign with wide eyes. This was what the Imperial Library lacked. Imagination. The shelves were masses of knowledge of politics, magic, history, anything she could possibly want--except for lies.

Nicole dipped her head, embarrassed. “I noticed the one on my shelf looked a bit… worn. Our trip is over a week, and I thought you might like…”

Noticed? Was this a ruse? But the brown eyes that surveyed her nervously held no ill will. When had Nicole actually done something other than try to make things _better_?

Waverly had to give her points for trying. So she smiled brightly, and the relief on Nicole’s face was palpable.

(She didn’t know that Nicole’s heart was beating so quickly she thought it might escape into the streets. A smile! She’d gotten a smile!

 _‘Oh, we are truly mad already,’_ Imperius said heavily. )

“Thank you,” Waverly said, taking Nicole’s hand. People were watching and it wasn’t so bad, anyhow.

They stepped indoors, and the man at the counter lit up like the sun. He hustled over, and Nicole took his attention, letting Waverly browse unbothered. Slowly, slowly, she made her way around the store, mentally noting ones she liked.

“Can I ask you something?” Nicole asked.

Waverly jumped, and Nicole frowned apologetically. “I suppose,” Waverly said, guarded.

“What do you like about them the most?” Nicole asked, head tilted like a curious puppy. “I like the escape. But I rarely had time to read with all of the traveling and studying.”

Waverly ignored most of the implications of that sentence. “I just…” Waverly shrugged. “It sounds childish, but... the heroes always win at the end.”

Nicole had this soft smile on her face that made Waverly look away. “I like that, too. I don’t think it’s childish at all.” Nicole stepped away, but halted. “Don’t you like some of them?” Waverly flushed, and Nicole realized her mistake again in overestimating those who had taught Waverly. Who knew what sort of ideas she still held about being meek and powerless, and Nicole had to stop herself from strangling Lord Earp the next time she saw him.

“Pick whatever you like,” Nicole said quietly instead.

“I don’t want to impose--”

“Waverly.” Waverly finally looked at her and Nicole smiled gently, trying to make her relax. It seemed to work. “Just pick some books, please.”

They finally got around to paying. Nicole leaned on the counter and frowned internally at the thought of Waverly hearing the price.

“Wait outside, please, Waverly?” Nicole asked. “I’ll be a minute. It’s a nice day.”

Even though the suggestion made her bristle, Waverly had to admit it was a bit stuffy. She nodded, eager to be away from the source of confusion in her life, and waited outside.

People minded themselves and tried not to step too close to her, but they offered grateful smiles and waves as if Waverly had done something for them personally. Simply for existing, they seemed to adore her, but Waverly’s mind was on other things.

Nicole had taken her to a bookstore, and Waverly had accepted.

_What had she been thinking?_

Waverly frowned at herself, at her actions. Cavorting with the person she was supposed to kill. Letting this person give her things like _gifts_. Was Nicole trying to buy her affections? Trying to alleviate her guilt?

(Or maybe she was just being nice?)

Neither her reasons nor these actions mattered in the grand scheme of things. She had to use the knife without hesitation -- because Willa certainly wouldn’t. Maybe, after seeing Nicole’s butchery of dragons for herself, she would feel more decided.

“You okay?” Nicole asked, books in hand.

“I’m…” Waverly swallowed the lie. “Just thinking.”

“Wanna go back?” Nicole smiled over the stack. Waverly tried her best to match it.

Waverly nodded, following with her head lowered as she considered how it would be to kill somebody.

 

* * *

 

A smile.

She’d gotten a smile!

Nicole was practically walking on air as she stepped out of their private room, letting the attendants dress Waverly properly alone. Her heart still pounded and her mind was still singing. She could feel Imperius in the background, annoyed, but their emotions were tied so tightly together that the Dragon couldn’t help but feel happy as well.

 _‘Is this the madness that comes for us?’_ Imperius asked, curious. _‘Caring so deeply for that which may kill us?’_

 _No,_ Nicole thought. She felt no need to lie to herself, nor to Imperius. So she simply announced the truth: _No, this is falling in love._

_‘The word in Dragon is the same for both concepts.’_

Then she noticed the Emperor.

Dolls stood there in his usual official clothing, back ramrod straight, hands folded behind his back. His face rested in a neutral expression.

“Nicole,” he said, stepping over.

Then he hugged her. It was brief, almost a half hug, but altogether surprising. Dolls was not one for physical displays.  “Be safe.”

Nicole hid her astonishment with a firm nod. He left with a final look toward the other room, his expression saying all: _Be safe from her, too._

Attendants replaced him, leading Nicole elsewhere to have her armor finally fitted. Her thoughts lingered on Waverly. Be safe from her. From her? The woman who made her heart pound, her thoughts stop, her chest flutter?

At this point, it seemed impossible.

 

* * *

 

As soon as she was ready, Waverly hustled out of the palace in a simple riding dress. Chrissy was waiting for her when she arrived. The servants finished saddling her steed and tossing the luggage into a carriage, all offering bows.

Attentions snapped around as heavy steps announced Nicole. She set her helmet on, hiding her joy at the prospect of the journey.

“Ready?” Nicole asked, face hidden. The gold armor crafted from Imperius, adored with beautiful white cloth, rested on her shoulders. It was horrible, horrendous, downright disrespectful, but still somehow beautiful. It made Nicole look… Divine. Magical.

Powerful.

“Must you wear that?” Waverly muttered, annoyed at her own thoughts and the return of the source of confusion in her life.

“I do, actually.” Nicole stepped up onto her horse. Thankfully, Waverly had her own. “It’s in the rules.”

Waverly rolled her eyes and mounted her horse, sitting a little awkwardly. Horses were for rich folk. As much as she loved the horses she could find in town, working hard and readily accepting her carrots, riding was a luxury she couldn’t afford. Now she had to ride one for how long -- days? A week? Longer?

“Hey, Waves!” Chrissy greeted with a broad grin, walking her horse over. “You need anything?”

“Just some luck,” Waverly said, blushing. But Nicole glanced at her, and Waverly straightened confidently. No way she’d allow Nicole to witness her making a fool of herself.

Nicole turned her horse and moved toward her. Show off. Looking all excellent and perfect and handling the horse like a master and--

“You’ve ridden before, right?” Nicole asked, stopping by her side.

Waverly scoffed. “I think I can handle it, Dragonslayer, thanks.”

Nicole shrugged and walked her horse to the head of the group. She gestured, and another horn blew, announcing the forward march. The horse jerked forward, and Waverly almost fell right off.

“I can do this,” Waverly whispered to herself, stubbornly clinging to the horse. “It’s _just_ a horse.”

Once she had _somewhat_ settled into the saddle, Waverly turned her eyes on the city.

Waverly tried not to openly stare like a tourist... and failed.

The brilliant colors of the capital were enchanting. The stained glass windows, the broadly painted stone, the cloth banners that hung from every place to hang from. It was more beautiful than Waverly could have imagined. Beyond the dusty streets of Tombstone and the rushed passage in a jerking cart, she hadn’t had time to absorb any of the beauty of the capital.

And the people!

Passerby became wilder and wilder at the sight of Nicole. It began with upper nobles saluting or even simply waving, then lower nobles bowing, then merchants cheering, then down to outright celebration in her name.

Waverly felt slightly ill, but forced herself to adapt Nicole’s straight back and relaxed shoulders. She smiled in return, waving, and the people adored the sight of her. People who would have scoffed in her direction only weeks ago, now jumped with elation when she noticed them.

In half a dozen languages or more, people cheered them on.

At last, they left the city proper, descending into the outer, less populated areas. Somewhere along the way, twelve men bearing the Haught crest joined their procession. Waverly peered at them curiously. They were not like the Earp men back home who slouched and belched rude jests. They were careful, disciplined, stepping in time with each other.

They were knights. Actual, true knights, with plate that bore marks of battle and shining cloth adorning their shoulders.

“My lady!” one of them called. She stepped up beside Waverly’s horse, easily keeping the pace. “My lady, so pleased to meet you!”

Her accent was the same southern drawl that Nicole had.

“We are the Knights of Haught, now yours to command.” All of her fellows saluted. “Honored to serve.”

“Thank you,” Waverly said, bewildered, “Honored to meet all of you.”

“Not all of us, unfortunately,” the woman sighed. “So many are back at home. You’ll get to meet them, too!”

Even. More. Knights?

_Hers?!_

Waverly stared in utter astonishment. The lady only grinned and moved back in formation with a salute. Would she obey if Waverly told her to do cartwheels? To conquer land? An entire brotherhood of knights like out of her smuggled romance novels. Her handcrafted little stick figures were nothing to this.

Against her will, Waverly found herself smiling.

Until another carriage rolled up behind them, carrying various supplies. Waverly swallowed hard at the gleaming sight of arrows that looked like miniature ballistae. A harsh reminder of the purpose of the mission.

But the beauty of the landscape around her stopped her thoughts from spiralling. Waverly’s smile returned as she gazed with curiosity at the farmers who waved at them, the tiny farmhouses, the rolling hills of grain.

And sure. The horse hurt, but at least it was _fun_.

 

* * *

 

Willa Earp lingered menacingly in a window, watching the procession pass by. Her face had turned into a permanent frown, and her posture spoke of murderous intent. Her eyes lingered too long on Nicole, tracing out the planes of her body, seeking that weakness to take advantage of.

“She’s killed him, I know it,” she whispered. The killer of her beloved. “Did you hear me?” Willa asked, turning to the boyish man standing in her study. “I said the Lady Haught is a killer of innocent men.”

James “Champ” Hardy shifted uncomfortably under Willa’s determined stare. “What does this have to do with Waverly?”

“ _Everything_ . Can you stand to look at them?” Willa sneered. “Waverly. _Your_ Waverly, had we the chance. Taken by a woman against her will, bound to serve a _murderer_.”

Champ frowned, mulling it over, a glower echoing Willa’s own settling onto his face as the slow gears in his head turned and turned. This was unjust. This was wrong. How could the Lady Haught get away with this?

“If you’re a man of justice, you’d do something about it,” Willa said firmly. “You’d save her.”

“How?” Champ asked, feeling Willa’s fury, stirred to anger.

“Any way that you can.”

 

Meanwhile, lower in the streets, a figure detached from the shadows and lurked toward the stable. A few moments later, she rode out on a horse that was not her own, wearing clothes belonging to someone else, and two daggers that were most definitely hers.

Mercedes would simply have to deal with her absence from the Guild. There were more important things at stake.

She had a promise to keep to her little sister.

 

* * *

 

For Waverly, riding on her new horse was fun for a total of one hour.

Then things started to ache.

The problem was that Nicole looked so dashing on her horse, her back straight, her hair catching the light, her body moving with the horse as one.

And Waverly… Waverly had some trouble. With _everything_.

“You alright?” Chrissy asked, leaning over. “You look…”

“I’m fine!” Waverly said quickly.

Chrissy shook her head in disbelief. “Waverly, there’s a perfectly fine carriage you can ride in.”

Waverly kept her head facing forward. Chrissy let out a sigh and moved back into position, granting Waverly one last glance.

 

By the time night came and the order to stop had rung down the line, Waverly existed purely in a state of pain.

It just _hurt_ . Everywhere hurt. All up and down her legs, around her backside, up her spine. Her whole body throbbed with anguish. How could Nicole look so steady and in control when Waverly was in _agony?_

To top it all off, she was _freezing_. The temperature had dropped low in true autumnal fashion. Waverly shivered, already cold even though the sun had set only minutes ago. Hoofsteps took her attention, and she turned, curious.

“Here,” Nicole said, offering a blanket. Waverly glared. “Please? You’re not dressed for this.”

“Thank you, Dragonslayer,” Waverly said quietly. She delicately took the blanket and wrapped it around herself, whole aching body slumping in relief.

Nicole slid from her horse and offered the same to Waverly, smiling despite the sound of her title.

Waverly braced herself, adjusted carefully, lifted one leg, and fell right off with a surprised yelp.

Nicole caught her, of course. Because of course the sexy knight she hated would catch her so delicately and help her to her feet, as unsteady though they were. Waverly couldn’t stop the furious blush that overtook her face, and she ducked her head, seeing people staring out of the corner of her eye.

“You okay?” Nicole asked, distractedly brushing hair from Waverly’s face. Neither noticed the meaning behind the gesture.

"I'll be fine," Waverly said, meaning to turn away before she met Chrissy’s stare, gesturing subtly. _Kiss her! People are watching!_

Waverly went on tiptoe and brushed a soft peck of a kiss to Nicole’s lips, feeling something curious jump in her chest, fluttering there like an idiotic butterfly. She almost froze in the moment, suspended in surprise as the brief touch ignited something. Fear? Anxiety? But that something raced through her like a lightning bolt, urging her to kiss Nicole properly. To feel her fully against her. To tangle her hands in her hair and taste her--

A few people cheered.

Waverly landed back on her heels, feeling slightly lightheaded.

Nicole dropped into a dramatic bow, a broad, dimpled grin plain on her face, her acting impeccable. So stunning that it was almost real.

Waverly had to lean against the horse to remain upright, forcing a smile though her entire body coiled with agony. Nicole furrowed her brow.

“You’re not okay,” Nicole said astutely, gently taking Waverly’s hand. “Let me help.”

Waverly resisted the urge to snatch back her hand, and instead pasted on another smile. “I’m sure I can get it,” Waverly whispered through gritted teeth, not even caring Nicole could hear her lie.

She took one step and wobbled, almost collapsing, but of course Nicole caught her. _Again._

“I’ve got you,” Nicole whispered against her ear, soft and sweet, and Waverly shivered involuntarily. “You still cold?”

Waverly nodded in lieu of lying.

“I can carry you.”

Waverly bit back a harsh retort, thinking about the agonizing walk to the tent. Truth be told, she was exhausted. Her whole body ached. And the thought of being carried didn’t appeal to her at all normally, but right now?

“Fine,” Waverly said, voice tinged with grumpiness.

Nicole only huffed a small laugh before picking her up like a sack of feathers. Waverly yelped and held on.

“Good?” Nicole asked casually.

“Don’t drop me,” Waverly stuttered, nearly clinging to Nicole.

“Never,” Nicole assured, voice steady as if there were some hidden meaning behind her words.

Before Waverly could consider it, Nicole began to move, stealing all thoughts except _cling tighter._ Truth be told, it was a tad embarrassing, but Chrissy gave a double thumbs up. People stared.

 _“That’s adorable,”_ one murmured in another language as Waverly passed. She tried not to hide, instead looking happy about her wife carrying her all strong and powerful and protective and--

Stop that.

Nicole gently set her on the cot, and Waverly sat up in alarm.

“There’s only one here,” Waverly said dumbly, looking at the small tent with alarm. “There’s only one cot.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” Nicole offered.

“No, you can’t.”

Silence descended on the tent as they both realized how _large_ the cot was, how _small_ the tent was, and just how _cold_ the night had turned.

“We have to share the bed,” they both realized at the same time.

Another beat of silence.

“I, uh--I’m going to--While you dress and--” Nicole gestured wildly before leaving Waverly alone in the tent, still staring in astonishment at their mutual realization.

Sleeping with the woman she hated. Touching her.

Waverly stumbled to her feet, dropping before her luggage, fiddling with the straps. She shook her head. No, no thinking about it. No questioning why her heart raced, why her hands shook, why she could still feel the ghost of a kiss on her lips.

Waverly undid the luggage and halted, shocked.

They packed her teddy bear, Mr. Plumpkins.

There he was, staring back at her with his one eye, his neck ripped open from the journey. Waverly gently lifted him from the box in slow astonishment. Dead. He was dead.

“I can sew you back again,” Waverly whispered. “I promise, I promise I will, I can--”

Tears rushed to her, and she sobbed openly, a child lost, remembering the damage Willa had caused that she had repaired so carefully, only for it to be undone. Willa. Always, always, Willa. Even here, even now, she could hurt her. How could Waverly ever escape? How foolish to try.

Footsteps that Waverly didn’t hear.

“Hey,” Nicole said gently, kneeling beside her without her armor. “Hey, are you okay?”  
Waverly forced herself to stop, to hide both her vulnerable self and Mr. Plumpkins from the Dragonslayer, to try her very best to lie: “I’m fine.”

Nicole winced.

“Can I help?” Nicole leaned in closer, hand outstretched for whatever it was. “Please? I promise to be careful.”

Waverly took a wild chance in trusting Nicole with something so precious, so delicate, a golden part of her childhood tarnished.

“No, I don’t...Look.” She revealed Mr. Plumpkins in all his destroyed glory. “My stitches didn’t hold…” She paused, catching herself. “Sorry, it’s stupid, I don’t know why they packed it, it’s just a silly bear and I’m being childish--”

“Not stupid. I had one… before…” Nicole shook her head clear of some memory, instead focusing inward.  She frowned, brow furrowed in thought. _Imperius, I need you,_ she urged silently.

_‘What is it?’_

Nicole flicked her eyes to the bear and Waverly’s tear stained face. _Help._

 _‘You wish to use my glorious power on a toy?’_ Imperius asked in disbelief.

Nicole focused harder on Waverly’s despair. There was a pause as Imperius considered.

 _‘Take the item,’_ Imperius responded, voice fierce, _‘We will bend time for it. You will learn.’_

“I can help,” Nicole said gently. “May I?”

“You know how to sew?” Waverly asked, slowly handing Mr Plumpkins to Nicole. It felt like a part of her heart.

_‘See it. All of its history, all of its possibility.’_

“Not exactly,” Nicole said. She shut her eyes and opened them again, seeing the dozens of possibilities of Mr. Plumpkins. Old and cracked. New and freshly created.

_How…?_

_‘Concentrate.’_

Nicole tried to focus on the versions earlier in time. _Come on_ , she urged herself. _Come on!_ The possibilities faded one by one and Nicole was left looking upon the golden image of Mr. Plumpkins, just created.

Now she had to make it _real_.

Nicole lifted one hand, pressing it down over the bear. Waverly gasped in shock and betrayal, but a glow stopped her from acting. Nicole carefully chose the historic creation of Mr. Plumpkins -- beyond the sewing, beyond the hopeless repairs, beyond the damage left by Willa Earp.

_‘There. Cast the spell.’_

The magic left her hand, flooding Mr. Plumpkins instead. There was a small, subtle click, and Mr. Plumpkins existed in an earlier state--perfect and untarnished.

“Wha…” Waverly took him back, inspecting him. Not a single inch of him ripped. Like he had been the day her mother gifted him to her. Tears threatened her words. “How?”

Nicole smiled past a headache. “Magic.”

“But what kind?” Waverly asked curiously, inadvertently touching Nicole’s knee before she caught herself.

“Chronomancy.” Nicole pointed at the bear. “Time. I sort of…bent time.”

Waverly held up the perfect Mr. Plumpkins in awe. Nicole had bent time for it. For _her_.

_Why?_

“Thank you,” Waverly whispered, honest. “I don’t know why you… but thank you.”

“Because I--” Nicole swallowed her next words. _I care about you._ True. _Very_ true. But not exactly what she needed to say now, here, and put additional pressure onto Waverly’s shoulders and make her uncomfortable. Not when Nicole knew what Waverly would eventually do. “I promised.”

Waverly stared at Nicole, stunned beyond words and still confused. Nicole only nodded once, frowning.

“I’ll let you get dressed,” she murmured before she stood and left.

Waverly brought her fingers to her lips absently, still feeling the faint ghost of a kiss.

 

 

Half an hour later, Nicole returned. Waverly had already cuddled up in the bed, hiding her red face beneath a sheet as Nicole stripped and re-dressed two feet away.

Movement as the cot shifted to accommodate Nicole’s weight.

“Uh…” Nicole leaned over, hesitant. “How do we do this?”

“Well, first of all, to sleep you lie down,” Waverly said, tired.

Nicole settled in beside her, uncomfortably far away and obviously balanced on the edge. Waverly let out a long-suffering sigh and pulled the blankets up.

“Nicole.”

“Hm.”

“It’s too cold for you to be acting like a child about things,” Waverly said, tugging on Nicole’s shirt. “Come here.”

Nicole echoed her sigh and flopped over.

“Closer, Nicole.”

 _Scooch, scooch_.

Finally, Nicole was close enough. Waverly pulled her even closer, so their bodies were together, the warmth shared. It dropped right down into her stomach, below, feeling the Dragonslayer’s lean body against hers.

Then Waverly remembered that she was to kill Nicole and slumped, the moment crashing and burning. Nicole’s body had gone stiff and awkward.

“Please relax,” Waverly urged gently.

Nicole’s mouth set in a firm, stubborn line.

 

“Don’t want to?” Waverly said, looking up. “Nicole, I’m comfortable with it. You’ll freeze if you don’t.”

“You can… decide… sort of, move me if you want--”

“Okay, here.” Waverly gently took Nicole’s arms and positioned them correctly, holding her. Oh, Sun help her, Nicole was holding her and it felt _amazing._

Waverly turned her back, but that was somehow better and worse at the same time. Now she could feel the delicate breeze of Nicole’s breath on the back of her neck. It felt… oddly intimate.

“Nicole, how many more days of this?”

“Probably nine.”

“Oh, great. Fantastic.”

* * *

 

Next morning came with soft, sleepy comfort. Waverly didn’t want to wake up. Not fully, anyway. Some part of her knew that she would be horrified if she woke fully and established an identity to the one that held her so close, so she clung to the blessed innocence of not fully knowing.

For a moment, she pretended.

Pretended to be the Dragonslayer’s wife, all comforted by the arms holding her so gently, the breath skirting around her ear, the lips so close and so…

Waverly woke and slammed the mental door shut on those thoughts. For the next nine days, she had to prepare.

For _murder_ .

Breakfast, a blessed affair of fluffy eggs and chilled fruit for everyone, even the lowest soldier, came with pain.

“Urgh,” Waverly said with an ineffective stretch. “My whole body _aches_.”

Chrissy giggled, hiding her mouth with her hand, eyes flicking to someone else. Waverly’s eyes widened and she turned slowly to meet the gaze of a blushing knight.

“Er…” Waverly tried.

“My bad,” the knight said, walking stiffly away.

“Oh, my Goddess,” Chrissy whispered. “She thinks you--that _Nicole_ did--”

“Chrissy!” Waverly hissed back. Chrissy raised up her hands in surrender. Waverly stretched out the rest of her limbs and sniffed herself. “Where do I bathe?”

Chrissy smiled wickedly.

Chrissy declined to mention where she was leading Waverly, only insisted it would be better than bathing with the rest of the men. They walked through a small patch of trees and shrubs, out of the broad hillside, to a gorgeously clear spring hidden away in the copse.

“Here,” Chrissy said with that same insufferable smile. “ _This_ is where you bathe.”

It looked nice enough. Clean and hidden. Waverly set down her set of clothes and nodded to Chrissy.

“Thank you,” Waverly said hesitantly before her eyes went wide.

The spring was occupied.

Nicole rose from the spring like a goddess, water sliding down the glistening planes of her back. She lifted her arms to run her hands through her hair and her biceps _flexed_ and her shoulder muscles _rolled_ and Waverly _stared_. She just stared like some awful voyeur without really knowing why. Her hands shook as she raised them to her thumping chest.

Then she saw the scars. Long, thin lines breaking up the skin of Nicole’s back. It didn’t look revolting. Somehow, on her, it looked...What was the word for it?

But there was one that glared at her with an angry red outline. It was wide as a sword point, and it was as if Nicole had been--

Nicole let out a surprised yelp and Waverly hid her eyes immediately, wishing the soil would come to life and end her embarrassment.

“Sorry!” they both said at the same time. There was a whole lot of splashing as Nicole rushed to the shore.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry,” Nicole said quickly as the splashing stopped, announcing she had left the water. “I didn’t know--”

“No, I shouldn’t have--"

“If I had known, maybe I would--”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry for staring and--”

“I spent too much time, and I should let you--”

“ _Chrissy_ ,” Waverly said firmly, eyes still hidden. “Chrissy set this up.”

“She did?” Nicole asked, a hint of frustration tinting her voice. Clothes finished rustling. “I’m dressed, by the way. I’m so sorry, Waverly. I’ll talk to her.”

Waverly shrunk even further at how apologetic Nicole sounded even though _Waverly_ had been caught _staring_ . She tried to say something--anything--but it was hard to find words with the image of Nicole burned into the forefront of her mind. The fact Nicole looked like _that..._

Nicole let out an annoyed sigh. “I should have known she’d pull something like this. I really am sorry, Waverly. I’ll leave.”

Soft footsteps and Waverly was alone by the stream, trying to control her breathing and the burning questions Nicole had left behind.

 

* * *

 

Eight nights. Eight nights of sleeping in Nicole’s arms, warm, feeling safer than she’d ever felt. How long had it been since someone simply held her? Her body cried out for it, and Waverly could do nothing to stop it.  

Nine days. Nine days of sitting beside the carriage driver, diving right into her books, and watching the rolling hills pass by. The fields of grain gave way to forest, then to the mountain range, and through the pass, they found the land that House Haught called home.

Through the smaller towns they marched. They didn’t stay long, declining the feasts that the town promised for the great Dragonslayer Haught. Women and men alike stumbled over themselves talking to her wife. Annoyed for a myriad of confusing reasons, Waverly stayed at Nicole’s side. They stopped after that.

“You can relax, you know,” Chrissy said, leaning over at Waverly, who was glaring at another woman practically throwing herself at Nicole.

“What?” Waverly asked sharply. “I _am_ relaxed.”

“Yeah, sure.” Chrissy shrugged. “She’d never break an oath. _Especially_ not to you.”

Waverly looked at her, bewildered. “Why keep her word?”

“Uhh…” Chrissy looked at her strangely. “It’s the right thing to do?”

Waverly crossed her arms. “And the right thing to do was marry me against my will?”

Chrissy let out a sigh and abandoned the topic.

They passed waterfalls larger than an estate, through pine forests that stretched endlessly according to the map Nicole had gifted her, and onto the gorgeous heart of House Haught. Waverly gazed in awe at the rolling green hills and flush green orchards adorned with colorful houses. Farmers waved while dressed in clothing that wasn’t ripped and dusty. Fences were well worn, but sturdy. Houses had no holes, no shacks, just solid, weathered stone.

It was the most beautiful land Waverly had ever seen.

“Welcome to the land of knights and fairy tales,” Chrissy announced, riding up beside her, gesturing wide. “The land of House Haught.”

“Does this all belong to Nicole?” Waverly asked Chrissy.

“Hmm, not yet. It sort of belongs to _me_ right now.”

“What?”

“Well, my dad took over the...when…” Chrissy cleared her throat. “He’s been holding the land until Nicole is ready.”

“When what?”

“That’s something Nicole has to tell you, Waves.” Chrissy shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Waverly frowned. “Is that why she’s never said anything about her parents?”

Chrissy made a sewing motion with her mouth and pointed to Nicole, who had stopped the caravan to speak to a farmer. She leaned down on her horse, quiet, while the farmer appeared to babble endlessly.

Then Nicole pointed to her. Waverly tried not to look too alarmed and offered a polite smile along with a wave. The farmer grew wildly happy, touching Nicole in a way Robert would never have allowed, seeming to congratulate her. Then he gestured south, his face grim.

Nicole sat back on her horse and gave him a nod. The farmer bowed, retreating to the side of the road. With a single gesture from Nicole, the caravan began to move. She slipped back, holding her horse, signalling one of her men to lead. She rode beside Waverly.

“We’re almost there,” Nicole said, voice grave. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in the city?”

Waverly hid her riot of fear behind a mask. “I’m sure.”

She had to see it for herself. The supposed destruction, the proof of the lies she’d been told.

 

_“Your humans hunt us,” said one of the forest Dragons._

_“Why?” Waverly had asked._ _  
_

_“I haven’t the faintest clue.”_

 

The caravan turned south.

Nicole rode up at the lead, meeting her reinforcements. For the moment, her mind had moved on from Waverly’s smile at seeing her home land.

“Lady Haught,” the knight greeted. He look off his helmet and took his time introducing the rest of the knights. “When is the war?”

Nicole frowned. “Never, if I can help it.”

“Always optimistic.” He tilted his head at Waverly, before turning aside to ride next to Nicole. “How’s your wife?”

Nicole smiled wistfully. “Wonderful. She means everything to me.”

“That’s good.” He slapped Nicole on the back. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” Nicole said quietly.

Then the soldier proceeded to say one of the stupidest phrases known to humans, in earshot of the worst listener he could.

“Even if she is an Earp.”

Nicole halted her horse, the entire caravan halting with her. He stared back with wide eyes.

“ _Never_ say it like that again,” Nicole said, voice steady and dangerous. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course, Dragonslayer,” the knight stuttered. “I only meant --”

“I know what you meant.” Nicole glanced at Waverly, who stared back with a worried and confused expression, but turned to her knight with the same quiet, growling tone. “ _Never_ talk like that about her last name.”

Nicole urged her horse forward, leading the caravan on. Her knight stayed a respectful distance away. Chrissy took his place at Nicole’s side, noticing Nicole’s twisted expression. Headache. Again.

“It’s soon, isn’t it?” Chrissy asked, voice quiet, almost pleading. “You’re almost out of time.”

Nicole nodded past the pain. “Every time I use the magic, it gets worse.”

“Nicole, _please_ \--”

“No.”

Chrissy turned aside, tears building behind her eyes.

 

* * *

 

A question burned in Waverly’s heart.

It was the nightfall of the ninth day when Waverly finally gathered her courage to ask it. They had camped for the evening, and Nicole hadn’t even yet had time to remove her armor. Waverly grabbed the spark of bravery and ran with it, throwing caution to the wind.

“Nicole, can we…” Waverly gestured to the camp. “Talk somewhere privately?”

“Of course.” Nicole turned, leading her into the small forest nearby. A well-worn trail lead further onward, but as soon as they had some kind of privacy, Waverly finally asked her burning question.

“Nicole, who were the other Dragons you killed?” Waverly asked hesitantly. “The ones who earned you scales on my--the necklace I wear.”

Nicole looked at her for a long moment. Long enough that Waverly fidgeted, feeling seen and vulnerable. True, the scales represented only a portion of Nicole’s kills. Most Dragons did not count.

“One of them was a mountain Dragon.” Nicole’s eyes turned distant, sad. “He had already burned half the village to the ground when I fought him.”

Waverly’s eyes widened.

“The next was hiding in the woods. I watched him tear a man apart. The third I found killing farmers. The fourth had roosted in ruins and was picking off merchants--”

“I think I understand,” Waverly said, feeling ill.

“You’re right about us,” Nicole said quietly. “Some of us go out and find them. Others wait. But I don’t regret saving lives, Waverly. I can’t tell you that I’m not glad they’re dead.”

Waverly looked away, mouth twisted. Dragonslayer indeed. If Nicole discovered her friend and heard the lies of the villagers like Robert had...

“That’s not to say there might not be…” Nicole took a breath and a chance. “Dragons that are... _different_ , maybe.”

Waverly failed to hide her surprise at Nicole’s statement, mouth open to say something -- anything -- except Nicole went stiff, seeing something.

“Stay close.” Nicole set her helmet on, one hand itching for her sword, eyes scanning the treeline. Breathing fast, unnerved, Waverly huddled behind Nicole as she turned. She armed herself with a nearby stick.

Nicole struggled against the visions, the mess of golden images trying to help her, to discern what was real and what was not. She blinked rapidly, seeing someone leap forward--

“Hiya!”

A shadow launched itself from the brush and kicked Nicole in the face. Nicole stumbled, disoriented, as the assassin pulled two daggers from their belt and slashed wildly.

Only the visions saved her. Nicole spun out of range, sweeping her greatsword smoothly out of its sheath, only for it to be caught between two raised daggers and two magically steady arms.

Nicole’s eyes went wide, staring at the smiling gaze of the assassin.

Dragon magic.

“Get off of her, asshole!” Waverly said and whacked the assassin with a stick.

“Ow!” the assassin hissed. They turned sharply and swept Waverly’s feet from under her in a single, lightning-fast movement. Waverly dropped like a stone, but slowed at the last minute from magic.

_Nobody touches Waverly._

_‘Nobody touches Waverly,’_ Imperius echoed.

Nicole took advantage of the pause and threw away her greatsword--too awkward for close quarters--in favor of tackling the assassin down to the ground. Only trouble is that the assassin caught her arms easily, digging their feet into the dirt.

“Dude, you weigh as much as a horse,” the assassin grunted. A woman.

Nicole stepped back and drew her sidesword. The assassin picked up her daggers. They circled, eyeing each other’s grips, twisting their blades, preparing for the slightest misstep, the slightest opening, before they would strike.

“Expert, huh?” the assassin asked. “Too bad I gotta kill you.”

 _And then Waverly._ Rage tinted Nicole’s vision gold. She saw at once what she would do. How she would win. How she would _kill_.

Some part of her screamed for her to stop, to avoid the need for violence. This wasn’t her. This wasn’t right. She should work on subduing the assassin, not kill them.

But the roar of battle took over.

“Wynonna?” someone asked distantly.

Nicole attacked in a flash of steel, forcing the assassin back. Her wild, angered strikes had little effectiveness, but served a secret purpose. Clash after clash rang through the air. The exquisite burn in her arms furthered Nicole’s descent into focused purpose.

“Stop!” someone called.

Nicole roared and revealed her plan, pushing the assassin back into a stream. The assassin hit the ground hard, and Nicole lifted her blade for the killing stroke, driven forth by the rage of the Dragon inside her.

Waverly got in the way.

“Waverly!” Nicole shouted, lowering her sword out of a dangerous path. “Get out. Of the way.”

“No,” Waverly said stubbornly. “That’s my _sister_.”

“Your sister happens to be an _assassin_ intent on killing us both,” Nicole hissed.

“Only you!” Wynonna said from the stream, picking herself up. She pointed at Nicole. “Just you, dude. And I’ll have you know I’m a _thief_ , not an assassin. Those are _tacky_.”

“Wynonna!” Waverly chided. “You are _not_ killing Nicole.”

“Hey. I seem to remember a promise? Remember when you were six and you told me, _‘Wynonna, if I ever get married, you must come at once and free me.’_ ”

“That’s _not_ what I sound like!”

“It is sort of what you sound like,” Nicole interrupted as she sheathed her blade and readied a cord of rope from her belt. She tried her best to fight through the incredible headache building behind her eyes, but rage still held court in her mind, not knowing the fight was over.

“Shut up!” Waverly turned back to her sister and pointed. “You abandoned me for _years--_ ”

Nicole cleared her throat, making both sisters turn. She held out her hand for Wynonna's. “Nicole. Her wife.”

“I’m Wynonna, and _what are you doing_ \--”

Nicole grabbed Wynonna’s hand and tugged her forward, twisting her arms behind her back easily. “Arresting you.”

“Nicole--what…” Waverly took a step forward, completely baffled at the change.

“You’re under arrest,” Nicole said firmly, already tying Wynonna’s wrists. “The Emperor will decide--”

 _“Nicole!”_ Waverly shouted, furious.

Nicole turned at last to face Waverly.

“Yeah, uh, baby girl, not a good first impression,” Wynonna complained, tugging at the bindings. They held easily.

Nicole pressed a free hand to her face with a sigh, trying to tame her frustrations. “Waverly,” she explained, trying her best to be calm even though her body wished to fight. “I know this is your sister, but she’s also a _criminal_ who is breaking the _law_.”

“Prove it!” Wynonna said, despite having just assaulted a Dragonslayer. “Besides, uh, what just happened. Maybe I hit my head, had a spell on me, or some kind of--”

Nicole pulled a bag of gold from Wynonna’s belt. “Does this belong to you?”

“Uh, of _course_ it does,” Wynonna lied.

Nicole’s face turned thunderous.

“She can hear lies, Wynonna.” Waverly stepped forward and put a hand on Nicole’s arm. Where was the kind, protective Dragonslayer now? Gone. It had been replaced with stoic determination. “ _Please_ , Nicole. That’s my _sister_.”

“I _have_ to arrest her, Waverly. I’m sorry.”

Waverly curled her hands into fists. “You _can’t_ .”

“I can and I have to.” Nicole changed her grip to Wynonna’s upper arm. “I have a duty to the law _and_ my people. I can’t let a thief go just because you asked me to.”

“You asshole!” Waverly snapped. “If you do this, I swear I--”

“Baby girl, just leave it,” Wynonna said heavily. “She’s not going to change her mind. And sure, whatever, I’ll meet your Emperor guy. I always found royalty hot.”

“I can promise that he’s kinder than he looks,” Nicole said softly as she lead Wynonna away. Waverly huffed an angry breath and stormed after the pair.

Guards surged forward as soon as they spotted Wynonna, quickly crowding around and taking her from Nicole. Waverly had to hide her fury carefully, but it bubbled just beneath the surface.

“In the name of the Empire and my position as Dragonslayer,” Nicole said as the guards applied further bindings. “You are captured, Wynonna Earp, for the crime of theft--”

“Nicole, _please_ \--” Waverly begged quietly.

“You will accompany this caravan to our destination, and then our return to the capital. There, the Emperor will decide your fate.”

Waverly fought back tears. Wynonna mouthed a simple _don’t worry_ before the guards took her away, leaving a proper space for yelling between the wives.

Of course the Dragonslayer would pull something like this. Waverly had been fooled by her pretty smile and gifts, and now Nicole had gone ahead and _arrested her sister_.

“How could you do this?” Waverly demanded as soon as the others were out of earshot. “How could you _arrest_ my _sister?”_

“How could I not?” Nicole asked back, uncharacteristically angry in response. She gestured at the retreating Wynonna, frustrated that Waverly would ask her to compromise her duty. “Just because she’s your sister, you expect me to disobey the _law?”_

Waverly faltered slightly. “Well--”

“Think about the people she’s hurt. Where did she get that gold from? Her daggers? Her outfit? She’s part of the _Thieves Guild,_ Waverly. I’m sorry, Waverly, but she’s not the epitome of justice you think she is.”

Waverly looked away, part of her understanding, the other part of her still furious. She turned back to Nicole. “You’re an asshole.”

“Waverly.” Nicole let out a sigh, running her gauntlets over her face, trying to calm herself even though her headache had turned monstrous. “I may have arrested her, but I’m _trying_ to _help_ her. She won’t have to steal to live anymore. Dolls is going to help her _change_ , not throw her in a cell.”

“Why should I believe you?” Waverly snapped back. “You’re a _murderer_ .”

Nicole took a heavy, furious breath, fists curled. “ _Fine_ . Fine, _don’t_ believe me. But I have a duty to the people she’s stolen from, and I’m not going to shirk it just because you ask me to.” Nicole turned and walked away from the conversation, leaving Waverly behind.

That night, Nicole found extra blankets and slept on the floor, refusing to look Waverly in the eye.

For some reason, it hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope that did not disappoint. im really tired
> 
> next chapter: wynhaught brotp
> 
> also a dragon! the dragon is there. its big and theres a whole fight scene and yeehaw
> 
>  
> 
> [@Sensitivepigeon](https://twitter.com/sensitivepigeon)  
> [Sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	4. The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is running out before Nicole's mind unravels, and the trip to face down a Dragon isn't helping. Waverly learns the truth and is forced to make her choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a bit late sorry! dragon scene had to be perfect.. hopefully it does not disappoint! thank you all for the super kind messages and comments. i try my best to answer them all i REALLY appreciate it!!
> 
> LETTERKENNY REFERENCE BECAUSE THIS IS FANTASY CANADA BAYBEEEEEE  
> witcher 3 fans should also see similarities between nicole's home and a certain zone, but hopefully _very_ many differences.
> 
> Thank you to Iamthegaysmurf and Haughtpocket for beta!
> 
> and now: Dragons.  
> [@Sensitivepigeon](https://twitter.com/sensitivepigeon)  
> [Sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com/)

Nicole was already gone when Waverly awoke. She stretched slowly, spying the empty tent, only to be reminded of the presence of one particular teddy bear in her arms.

Waverly gently lifted Mr. Plumpkins and turned him over. The perfect recreation -- no, not recreation -- this was _him_ . _Original_ . Time-bent. Tears blurred her vision as she held him close without worry he might tear. But why? And then why betray her like this? Was Waverly just another _duty_ she was fulfilling, or might she actually _care?_

There were no answers to be found. Waverly crept from the tent into the morning and found a knight holding her breakfast for her.

“Good morning, my lady,” the knight offered. “I kept some warm for you.”

“Thank you,” Waverly said quietly, taking it and awkwardly patting the knight’s shoulder, getting a full clanking bow in return. The knight scuttled off with a smile. Waverly tossed a vicious glare at Nicole, who withered and turned away, _‘good morning’_ dying on her lips.

Waverly took her breakfast and sat next to her captured sister, raising a few eyebrows. The guard nodded politely. Waverly said nothing, only glared at her wife from across the camp. Asshole.

“Don’t worry, I’ve had worse,” Wynonna said, propping one of her bound hands beneath her chin.

“Maybe you _deserve_ worse,” Waverly said petulantly, crossing her arms. “You left me behind.”

“Fair point.”

Fair point? That was all? After leaving her behind as a child to a cold family and a dark home and a musty bed without saying a word. Abandoning her to _that_ , and all Wynonna could say was _‘Fair point.’_

But….

She had _returned_ to keep a _promise_.

Waverly hugged her previously absent sister hard. Wynonna groaned in pain, but Waverly only held tighter.

“You _remembered_ ,” Waverly said through tears. “You _came back_ for me.”

Wynonna gave Waverly a few comforting, awkward back-pats as Waverly cried herself out. “I was always gonna come back, baby girl.”

Waverly pulled back, holding Wynonna by the shoulders with a firm look. “I am still super, super mad at you. Were you a thief the whole time?”

“Maybe.” Wynonna glanced around at all the knights with bows and Dragonslaying spears. “What is this whole thing for?”

“Dragon,” Waverly said with a frown. “Nicole’s going to kill it.”

“Uh-huh. And I guess you’re just absolutely _thrilled_ about that, aren’t you?”

Waverly hid her answer from the guards around them, only her facial expression responding to Wynonna’s question. Wynonna nodded, eyebrows raised.

“I have to find out the truth,” Waverly whispered.

When the call to move came, Wynonna settled into the carriage among the blankets and pillows packed for the journey. She propped her head up on one elbow, giving Waverly a raised eyebrow. “Soooo.”

Waverly glared back.

“Yeah, I know I’ve been a little--” Wynonna made a small gesture with her hands. “ _Little_ , little busy, okay? But I come back, and you’re _married_? What’s the deal with that?”

“It’s a long story.”

Waverly opened her mouth, about to whisper her first of fifty questions. Horns interrupted the pair from having their important conversation. Waverly whipped around, only to spot smoke in the distance.

“Steady!” Nicole called as agitated murmurs ran up and down her ranks. “I’ll be right back.”

She rode off. Waverly shifted, uncomfortable. It would be quite awkward if Nicole simply died somehow.

Nicole returned, face grave. “It was just here.”

* * *

They rode faster now with the destination in hand. The smoke cloud became larger and the color of a quiet smolder before they reached the remains of what had been a farm. An important looking man stood among a group of murmuring villagers, all looking pale.

Nicole dropped off of her horse and approached the mayor, who pushed forth the farm owner to speak to the Dragonslayer.

“Dragonslayer,” the farmer said casually in his strange southern drawl. “How’re ya now?”

“Good, ‘n you?”

“Not s’bad,” the farmer said before the charred remains of his barn.

Waverly leaned over to Chrissy. “Were those words?”

“Yep,” Chrissy confirmed.

Nicole listened patiently to a flood of strangely accented words. The villagers crowded into her shadow, seeing it as safe -- a comfort -- and their eyes glowed with adoration. Nicole’s face grew grim as the story wore on, acknowledging that the loss of livestock would put the whole village in danger of starvation. All of the cows and chickens had been lost.

“You gotta take the left road, by the big tree and up the hill, check on the Moorsons.” The farmer pointed. “We heard nothin’. There were smoke a bit before. You gotta check on ‘em, Dragonslayer.”

Nicole nodded. “I will. Promise.”

Nicole lead the silent caravan up toward the remains of the Moorsons’ farm, but stopped them outside the range of the smoke. She instructed a retinue of two knights and Chrissy, only for Waverly to mount a horse and follow.

“Are you sure?”

“I have to see for myself, _Dragonslayer_ ,” Waverly said, and remained firm under the look of disbelief Nicole sent her way.

Nicole gave up the thought of ordering Waverly to stay. She’d just disobey it anyhow, and hate her more for the trouble. But the awful reality of Dragons would be a hard burden to bear.

“Hey!” Wynonna said, trying to step toward them, only to come up short. “Hey, let me come.”

Nicole eyed the thief suspiciously, but after a moment’s reflection, nodded for her guards to allow Wynonna to follow. Waverly would need someone when she learned the truth. Despite whatever lies she had been fed, Dragons were capable of horrifying destruction. To somebody so kind, what would that knowledge do?

Nevertheless, the trip only took minutes. It wasn’t long before they saw what had become of the Moorsons’ farm.

All that remained was desolation.

What was left of the orchard had been turned into twisted, skeletal hands. The house lay empty and blackened. The slumping shapes were…were...

Nicole dropped from her horse and took a few steps forward, surveying. Underneath her armor, her hands had begun to shake as she leaned against the remains of a wall. Her memories kept trying to go back to _then_ , when the dragon had… Her mother had…

Nicole shut her eyes and turned away. She took a few deep, cleansing breaths, but fell to coughing from the smoke. Waverly caught her eye. Waverly. How would _she_ take this terrible truth?

Waverly found herself on the ground as well, moving mechanically forward in jerking, halting movements. She gazed over the ruins with wide eyes and a slack jaw, her entire body suspended in disbelief.

It was true. Everything Nicole had told her.

The Dragons, her friends, had _lied_ to her.

Waverly drifted her hand over the charred remain of fence. She saw in the distance the shadowy shapes of the dead, and the husk of the farmer’s home. She dropped to her knees, tears building in her eyes, her throat thick with the stench of death and oncoming sorrow.

Nicole knelt beside her, a comforting shadow that Waverly couldn’t ignore anymore. Waverly turned, exhausted, and fell into her arms with a wracking sob. Armored arms wrapped around her, holding her close as she cried out the damage to her soul.

Lies. All of it.

And what was this? This waste of the life of four, this slaughter. This madness. This she had seen before in the deaths of her friends at the hands of Robert. Except now a Dragon, now human innocents. She knew what it was.

This was _evil_.

Wynonna knelt beside them, meeting Nicole’s gaze. The look said everything. What would become of them now was a tenuous peace -- _we both care for her, so maybe we aren’t exactly enemies --_ at least where Waverly was concerned.

Nicole gently exchanged her own arms for Wynonna’s, and gave Waverly’s hand one last comforting squeeze, continuing past the strange, distant look she received in return. Waverly still seemed _confused_ by her kindness.

Nicole let out a sigh and prepared herself.

The investigation began at once. Chrissy followed dutifully with a small map and parchment as Nicole swept the area for tracks. She found one. Nicole knelt, inspecting the track. The lower tread of a forest Dragon, built like a serpent for hiding among bushes but unable to produce the flame needed to scorch the farm. Then what had razed the farm? A second Dragon -- but what kind?

There were no other tracks. Only the heat of the flame gave Nicole an idea. Large, sweeping swathes of fire could indicate a major Dragon, large enough to grant her a scale. The best bet would be asking the villagers.

“Two Dragons,” Nicole said. Chrissy nodded and wrote quickly. “One of them is a scavenger, just coming in afterward.” She inspected a body. “The other killed without feeding.”

“Why?” Chrissy asked.

“I don’t know,” Nicole admitted. “But here. Blood.” She pointed across what remained of the charred wood floor. Subtle brown stains covered part of it. “The bodies weren’t eviscerated, just burned.”

“Injured Dragon?”

“Most definitely, yes.” Nicole stood. “We have a trail. Get anyone from the village who witnessed anything and bring them to our camp.”

“At once, Dragonslayer,” Chrissy said, face grave as she saluted across her chest. She hopped onto her horse and was gone in moments, leaving the trio behind with two guards.

Nicole returned to her horse, adjusting to rise, but Waverly stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Nicole, wait--”

Nicole waited, turning to her wife with a patient expression.

“What if… What if the scavenger Dragon has nothing to do with the killings?” Waverly asked quietly. “What if it’s one of the Dragons who are different?”  
“There’s no way I can tell, Waverly,” Nicole said, lowering her head slightly. “I can’t ask them, and I can’t risk it. I’m sorry.”

Waverly had to restrain her next statement, tackling it into the mental ground. She couldn’t reveal her ability to speak to Dragons to a _Dragonslayer!_ That was a quick way to get thrown in a cell and called insane--or, if heard by someone holding to the Old Kingdom, _executed_.

“So what?” Waverly asked, frustrated. “You’re just going to murder it if you see it?”

“If it remains a threat to the well-being of the village, which now is in danger of starvation because of it, then, yes,” Nicole calmly replied. “My duty is to protect the people of my home, not to defend Dragons.”

Waverly looked away, a riot of emotion in her heart. Nicole rose on her horse, signaling her knights, and Waverly rode aside Wynonna in contemplative silence.

* * *

An hour later, they made camp. The rest of Nicole’s knights had arrived with additional supplies, including a ballistae, half a dozen archers, and two mages. No chances would be taken.

Nerves rattled her spine, and Nicole hid it well. Every single time, she worried endlessly over injuries and losses among her troops. Thankfully, they had been few and far between, but Nicole still had her favorite coping mechanism: Her bow.

Nicole strung the greatbow and gave it a testing pull. She nodded to the knight beside her, who bowed.

“Nicole.”

Waverly. Nicole turned to spy her wife hesitantly stepping closer, curious eyes tracing the lines of her bow. Her mouth was open slightly, on the verge of words, and Nicole waited patiently. An internal battle played out clash by clash behind her eyes. At last, she spoke. “How do you…” She stepped closer, almost touching the bow before thinking better of it. She turned her determined face to Nicole. “Show me.”

Nicole nodded. She signaled her men, who gathered up bales of hay. Soon enough, there was a makeshift target for her to strike. Nicole pulled one of the massive metal arrows from the quiver her knight held and nocked it easily.

“How?” Waverly asked.

“Magic,” Nicole said, glancing at Waverly, who frowned. “They hid that from you?”

“Yes."

“Sunlight,” Nicole pulled back the arrow, “gives us strength.” She called upon the magic, and it pulled from the air around her, intensifying the gaze of the sun and the heat in her muscles. Her skin prickled, on the verge of the sun’s burn.

It also functioned as a test to see if her Sunlight magic resulted in the same consequence as her Dragon magic. Sure enough, a headache edged into her mind.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Waverly. Her face faded to something distant, her eyes tracing the lines of Nicole’s arms. Nicole bit her lip, forcing herself to focus and aim and definitely ignore the look Waverly was giving her.

Nicole fired.

The arrow vanished in a cloud of hay, obliterating the distant target and driving deep into the earth beyond.

 _“How?”_ Waverly asked, almost a demand. “How does it work? The magic?”

Nicole turned, brow furrowed. “I don’t know?”

“You...don’t _know?”_

“Nope.” Nicole shrugged. “Only the Grand Constellar really knows.”

“Huh.” Waverly shook her head, feeling a little foolish and behind. She didn’t expose the depths of her shortcomings by asking just _who_ and _what_ the Grand Constellar was.  “Uhm, thank you. For, uhm, showing me.”

There was a meaning hidden behind the words: _we’re at peace...for now._

Nicole smiled softly, and Waverly had to look away, hiding her bizarre blush in response. “You’re welcome.”

Waverly skittered off, and Nicole immediately slumped, groaning, as her vision tinted gold.

Worse. It was getting worse.

 _‘I could have told you that,’_ Imperius interrupted, exasperated. _‘All magic will unravel us. We must conserve.’_

“Please be quiet,” Nicole whispered.

_‘We are running out of time. To challenge a Dragon is foolish when we can barely use magic without great pain and the threat of insanity.’_

“I took a vow to protect the innocent,” Nicole said fiercely. “I won’t break it now.”

Nicole blinked until the pain left, and walked over to the planning table, gesturing for Chrissy to round up the scouting reports, and trying her best to fight the headache. She listened patiently to the detailed notations. No longer could she be out in the woods, doing her own hunting. No, she was too _‘important’_ now. Nicole let out a sigh, itching to be out there, investigating, seeing for herself. Not so _bored_.

“I should be out there,” Nicole grumbled.

“Well, now you have people to do it for you!” Chrissy gave her shoulder a pat. “Be lazy for once, Nicole. Enjoy it.”

Nicole sighed and settled in for the long haul as witnesses prepared to testify. She didn’t notice the man approaching her camp, but Waverly did.

Waverly watched in disbelief as Dragonhunter James “Champ” Hardy rode into the camp with his back straight and a smile on his face. It darkened considerably as he glanced at Nicole, but returned when he spied Waverly.

Oh, no.

Waverly remembered her days as a teenager paying back the one person who would give her attention with boring dates and reluctant kisses. She had liked him. Right? She must have, at some point. But now he was _here,_ and Waverly didn’t like him. In fact, she wanted him gone.

To her dismay, Nicole was far too busy to come to her rescue. Waverly braced herself as Champ rode to her and dropped from his horse. He threw himself into a low bow that Waverly hoped he’d fall over from.

“My lady,” he greeted, saccharine. He stood fully, trying to catch the light in his fabulous hair and display some sort of manliness in his boyish face. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

Waverly let out an exasperated sigh. “From what?” she asked, knowing better than to break the game.

“From Nicole Haught.”

“Oh, of course,” Waverly said sarcastically. “You’re a little late to the party. Is anyone _else_ going to come and rescue me from my _wife?”_

Champ’s expression faltered, but after a moment, he regained his earlier determination. He leaned in, and Waverly could smell the rank sweat of unwashed knight. “Listen, I know this is going to shock you, but Nicole… Nicole _murdered_ Robert Svain.”

Waverly’s eyes widened with shock. Champ knew. Somehow, he _knew_. Waverly could see the depths of his belief in his eyes. But she wasn’t going to let Champ Hardy come forth with any sort of justice. Imagining Nicole being arrested by Champ, of all people, was too painful to bear.

“Nicole would never murder _anyone_ ,” Waverly said firmly, “She’s my wife and a defender of her people, not whatever insane idea you have about her being a _murderer_.” Waverly jerked her head. She didn’t need a man in shining armor. She was a damsel, but handling it very well on her own, thank you. “Ride away, Champ.”

He shook his head, and Waverly’s heart sank. “Listen, Waverly, she’s _evil._ ”

Well, that was a stretch. Nicole ‘ _arrest my wife’s sister for breaking the law_ ’ Haught didn’t have time for _Evil._

“Nicole doesn’t have an evil bone in her body!” Waverly said back, defensive of her wife for some peculiar reason. “She has a kind heart.”

“Well, of course she’d be kind to _you_ ,” Champ replied.

“What does _that_ mean?” Waverly demanded, her heart rapidly increasing speed.

“The civil war that’s brewing. She only wants you because you’re an Earp. Why else?”

The sound of Waverly’s heart breaking was almost audible.

Oh.

_Oh._

It all made sense.

All of the kindness, everything Nicole had done…

“You’re a liar!” Waverly accused viciously, taking a step forward. “You’re _lying_ to me.”

Champ shook his head. “Ask her yourself.” Champ pulled out a piece of paper and showed Waverly. “Look. She sent knights to Purgatory.” To Waverly’s utter horror, it was a signed, official order from Nicole Haught.

…It was just a political play. It had all been to gain her House’s favor and stop a war from breaking out. The Old Kingdom still had supporters, most notably among House Earp, and Nicole had decided to attack the source by marrying her.

Waverly looked away, fighting back tears. Some part of her had obviously sought the good within Nicole’s heart. Now she felt betrayed. Fooled. Like an idiot. She decided at once what she would do, and stormed back toward the camp.

“Waverly!” Champ shouted after her. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t follow me!” Waverly shouted back. To her confusion, Nicole was there talking to Wynonna. Fine. Fine, just fine.

Before Waverly could think too hard, she darted into the forest. She’d find the scavenger Dragon and convince them to stop. Then, maybe, she’d ask them to take her away from her horrible wife.

Champ paced, cursing, before following her.

* * *

Nicole saw Waverly talking with Champ and frowned. She shook her head. Waverly didn’t need protection. She could handle it. Instead, Nicole headed to the guardsmen who held Wynonna.

“Wynonna,” Nicole said in lieu of a greeting, all rank and neutral expression, inspecting Wynonna carefully. She wanted to make a good impression. Prisoner or no, this was her wife’s sister. Even if she was a thief.

“Let me guess,” Wynonna said. “You want advice about wooing my sister.”

Nicole tilted her head, smiling ever so slightly. “Not exactly. I’m here to talk about your arrest.”

“Hm. Well, I have _some_ advice.”

Nicole let out an exasperated sigh and gestured with her hand. “Okay, shoot.”

“Hurt her and I’ll kill you?” Wynonna tilted her head, even as the two guards spun with wild eyes. “There’s some advice.”

Nicole waved off her guards. “Privacy, please.” They took their leave with polite nods. “I know you don’t trust me, but I would never, ever hurt her.” Nicole let out a sigh at Wynonna’s stubborn expression. Some day she’d convince her. “I’m taking you to the Emperor. Dolls won’t throw you in a cell or execute you.”

A flicker of surprise went across Wynonna’s face.

“He’s most likely going to offer you a job, actually,” Nicole continued, trying her best to gauge Wynonna’s mood. Damn, her poker face and casual facade was _good_ , but Nicole could see the pain behind her eyes that seemed ever-present. Nicole again felt the need to sock the Lord Earp in the face.

“No, thanks, I don’t do rules,” Wynonna leaned as casually as she could with her arms bound.

“Wouldn’t you like to stay around Waverly, though?” Nicole asked. Wynonna’s eyes widened ever so slightly before her poker face returned. “Spies don’t really obey rules, either.”

Wynonna gave her a suspicious glare. “I’ll think about it.”

Nicole snapped her head around to an approaching scout racing toward them on a horse. He pulled up hard, the horse snorting with annoyance, and managed to catch his breath enough to speak.

“Dragonslayer!” he panted. “Your wife!”

“What about her?” Nicole asked, panic rising behind her calm expression. She gestured the two guards to come closer and prepare to grab Wynonna.

“She’s run into the forest!”

Nicole went pale and Wynonna pulled her, spinning her around.

“Let me help,” Wynonna said fiercely. “She’s my sister.”

“No.” Nicole nodded to her guards, who had already stepped forward. They latched onto Wynonna and pulled her back despite her wild, flailing legs. “Wynonna, _listen_ to me.”

Wynonna glared, angry tears falling from her eyes. “ _Fuck_ you.”

 _“Listen to me!”_ Nicole insisted. “ _I will get her back_ . I _will_ . But if I die, she’ll need you, Wynonna. _I can’t risk you._ ”

“Asshole!”

Nicole ignored her worsening insults and accepted the reins of their fastest horse. She jumped aboard, apologizing afterward, and urged it into the forest at a gallop. All of her troops would take too much time preparing, and would only slow her down.

She had to save Waverly.

* * *

Waverly crept through the underbrush as quietly as she could.

Which meant the snapping of twigs and branches announced her passage like horns blaring in the night. She winced with each crumple of leaves beneath her expensive boots, tiptoeing further along the trail of blood. She had to find this Dragon and stop Nicole from butchering it.

 _“Friend?”_ Waverly called out hesitantly in Draconic. No response. But, slowly, as she advanced, she began to hear a deep, pained groaning. She pushed through a particularly dense part of the forest before being greeted by an open clearing.

Waverly saw the forest Dragon laying in a pool of its own blood in the center of the clearing. She rushed forward to kneel beside it, stroking its scales as it huffed in pain. _“Friend, tell me what happened.”_

 _“Run,”_ it whispered hoarsely. _“Run, friend.”_

 _“Tell me!”_ Waverly urged, searching for the wound, only to spy that it truly was dying from a bite mark to the throat. Blood poured free and fresh from the gaping holes. There was no saving the Dragon.

 _“Bait… I am… bait!”_ it said, struggling to rise. Its serpentine body shuddered with pain as it adjusted, managing to stumble to its feet. _“I will fight for you. Run!”_

_“No, I won’t--”_

The harsh snap of wings interrupted her, and a thunderous roar broke over the trees. Birds and small animals scattered to the east, trying to outrun whatever beast was arriving. There, against the light of the sun, Waverly saw it.

It was a massive mountain Dragon, well on the way to becoming an Ancient.

Black scales caught the light, and it pulled in its wings to dive, roaring, flame visibly building inside its throat. Its claws stretched out like a bird of prey as its teeth peeled back from its gums, glistening malevolently.

“Waverly!” Champ shouted, tugging Waverly from the injured Dragon and hiding behind a tree. “What in the dark hell were you thinking?”

Waverly had no explanation for him, only watching as the lower Dragon hissed and huffed out a weak challenge. Waverly could do nothing as the mountain Dragon landed, crushing it beneath the force of the dive.

Champ screamed and promptly fled for his life, leaving Waverly behind.

 _“No!”_ Waverly, unable to just stand and watch the mindless violence, darted from the cover of the trees. _“No, stop!”_

The larger Dragon paused, looking up from its meal, blood dripping from its maw as it considered.

 _“Stop this!”_ Waverly urged. _“There’s no need for bloodshed!”_

One of its legs finished off the forest Dragon, and it crawled out into the clearing, eyes tracking Waverly with burning curiosity. It laughed and raised its head menacingly.

 _“Wait, stop!”_ Waverly said in Draconic. _“Wait, didn't you hear me? I said that--”_

_“Die, human!”_

_“No!”_ Waverly shouted, bracing herself for death as flame roared to life from its maw and rolled down toward her.

A familiar voice roared out a challenge before Nicole appeared before her, one arm outstretched as she held out a Sunlight magic shield against the Dragon’s fury. Flame curled around the edges, licking heat on Waverly’s skin as she huddled behind Nicole in disbelief. Nicole had come to rescue her.

_Why?_

On and on the gout of flame went.

It finally extinguished, only to be replaced by the Dragon’s foreleg, sweeping claws out to strike for Nicole. She moved to the side, pushing Waverly back, and smoothly swept her greatsword from its sheath, slicing through scales. The Dragon screamed.

The Dragon rose again, teeth glistening in the light, eyes affixed to prey.

Waverly couldn’t help but stare in complete confusion at the Dragon who decided, willingly, intelligently, to kill them.

Thankfully, Nicole had regained her faculties.

“Run!” Nicole thundered, turning at her arm and pulling her into the forest. They ran together as the laughing, hissing Dragon crashed through the trees, slowed by its massive bulk, but still chasing further. The forest turned to flashes of fast-moving green, and Waverly’s legs burned with effort, tears of fear running freely down her face as she could feel, in her mind, the snap of teeth tearing her apart.

 _“Run, Chosen of Imperius!”_ The Dragon called, voice dripping with malice.

Nicole heard nothing but mindless roaring and snapping. Waverly had no time to decipher the words. They crashed out into the hills, and at the worst possible moment, Waverly tripped. Her mind cried out with blank, all-encompassing terror, only for Nicole to haul her up to her feet before she hit the ground.

“There’s something wrong with it!” Waverly shouted over the sound of crashing trees and her own panting.

“Yeah, it’s a Dragon!” Nicole said angrily, before she turned, pulling her greatbow from her back and nocking a massive arrow. She needed an opportunity. Some opening. It would catch them, soon, so she would stay behind while Waverly escaped. “Run, Waverly. Go back to the camp.”

“No!” Waverly said. She drew Nicole’s sidesword, feeling stupid indeed, but she refused to leave Nicole behind to die.

 _‘Nicole, do not risk this…’_ Imperius tried, but Nicole pushed her away. She forced herself to tune out everything as the Dragon burst forth from the trees, wings snapping open as it hopped up into the air to flame. The sun glinted off its brilliant black scales, its eyes wild with amusement, laughing even as it flew. She remembered the stories her father had read as her mother was off fighting Dragons.

_And the knight of the seven hills raised her bow and said…_

“For my people,” Nicole whispered, drawing back her arrow. She called on her Sunlight magic and enchanted her arrow with the blazing power to ground the Dragon.  “For the Sun Goddess.”

For Waverly.

_And the magic of the sun raised her spirit, and so she struck down the menace…_

Nicole fired.

The arrow soared true, scorched with magic, and struck the joint of the Dragon’s wing with enough force to send it tumbling from the air, screeching out in rage and pain.

Waverly stood by Nicole’s side, watching the Dragon fall with wide, astonished eyes, frozen from the adrenaline. Was that it? Was that all? Waverly turned to Nicole, who had her eyes fixed to the distant form of the Dragon. She’d killed it. Just like that. Waverly couldn’t help but feel relieved--

The bulk in the distance moved. It heaved to its feet with a furious roar, flame bursting from its maw with wild, reckless aim. Heat raced toward Waverly, and she couldn’t run, couldn’t flee, it was like her legs were disobeying every order and she was going to die--

Nicole dove and swept up Waverly, sprinting out of the way as flame curled through the air behind her. Her visions returned in the echo of the use of magic, assaulting her senses with vicious glares of possibilities.

“Imperius, now is _not_ the time!” Nicole shouted.

Waverly gave her a bewildered look, but Nicole ignored it.

_‘I cannot. This is not my doing.’_

Flashes of gold blurred her vision, and she kept going, unable to know anything but the heat against her back and Waverly clutching close in her arms.

A man ahead of her, outlined in gold, turning to face her. He had the same hair, the same build, the same--

 _‘No!’_ Imperius cried. _‘Don’t look!’_

It was impossible. It was all too much. The vision of Robert turned to face her, and her mind cried out in agony.

Nicole snapped, rigid, and fell to the ground with a desperate scream. Waverly scrambled out from under her, shrieking her name, but unable to be heard over the sound of hundreds of voices shouting from the past and future.

“Nicole, please, come on.” Waverly shook Nicole’s shoulder as the Dragon limped closer, grinning wide. “Please get up. Get up! _Please!”_

 _“How sad,”_ the Dragon mocked, before raising its head to strike. _“Die, Imperius, you wretched traitor.”_

Waverly had no choice.

Without thinking, Waverly picked up Nicole’s sidesword and held it upward as the Dragon lunged with its mouth open. Her arms nearly broke as the sword stuck straight through the upper jaw of the Dragon. Waverly echoed its cry of pain, the sword ripping from her grip, the Dragon wheeling back and whining out in agony.

“Wave…” Nicole rose, unsteady on her feet, exhausted from the magic. She held out an arm, blocking her from the Dragon as it approached again, mouth draining blood and limping on its winged foreleg. “Stay behind me…”

“You can barely stand!” Waverly insisted, tears building in her eyes. This was her fault. She had lead Nicole here, and now--

Nicole drew her greatsword, ignoring her warning. She lifted it to the sky and it blazed alight with Sunlight magic. It ran along the scales of her armor, seeping into her skin, burning her even as it reinvigorated her. The magic scorched her senses, but Nicole did not relent. More. She must have more.

_It must not get Waverly._

_‘It must not get Waverly.’_

It slithered forward and raised its wing to strike.

Nicole charged. She swept forward with her blade, narrowly missing death by claw, slicing against Dragonscale like it was cloth. The Dragon screamed in pain, crawling back away from the mad woman with the flaming sword, twitching and hissing furiously.

It tried once to fly, snapping open its damaged wing to catch air with a pained screech, but Nicole struck forth again and drew more of its blood, the sword cutting through the Dragon’s remaining wing like paper.

She could see its movements, the flow of time changing as she attacked further, almost too quick to see. It slowly became more of a hindrance as the visions increased in number, showing her meaningless possibilities.

Her magic was degenerating far too fast. Her mind was unraveling, even as she fought and Nicole could do nothing to stop it.

“Imperius, stop it!” Nicole shouted. “Waverly is in danger!”

_‘I cannot! Brace yourself!’_

The strain slammed into her harder than the Dragon claw. It caught her leg, flinging her across the clearing, where she struck a tree and fell crumpled to the ground with a heavy _thunk._

The Dragon disregarded her entirely, turning back to Waverly with hissing curiosity. It twitched, its eyes crazed with pain, lurking forward slowly to savor the hunt.

 _“The Dragon Queen sends her regards,”_ Waverly said, voice wavering in fear. The words would stop any Dragon who had any intelligence, but maybe she was wrong, because the Dragon only _laughed_ at her.

 _“Then I will send her your body,”_ the Dragon promised.

The Dragon lunged.

Waverly screamed.

Time slowed.

Nicole lifted her hand uselessly, trying to fight the swimming pain in her body. “Imperius,” she whispered, watching the Dragon slowly inch forward in time. “ _Imperius_.”

_‘We may die if I help. This may be the end of all things. Your duty to your people, the law, yourself. All of that. For her. The woman who still desires to kill you. Kill us. Why do we care so much?’_

Imperius didn’t sound judgemental. Only curious.

“Imperius,” Nicole groaned, crawling toward her sword. Her bloodied hand grabbed the handle and curled around it. “We _have_ to… _save_ her. We _promised_.”

No response as the Dragon’s teeth peeled back from its gums, inches from Waverly.

 _“IMPERIUS!”_ Nicole screamed desperately.

_‘So be it.’_

Power flooded Nicole’s body. She rose from her position on the ground on burning, shaking legs, her whole body suspended with magic. White fire lit Nicole’s blade, and compelled to do so, she hurled it like a spear, putting all of her power, all that remained of her, behind the throw.

It struck home in the Dragon’s eye and time snapped back to normal.

The Dragon roared out a dying breath before stuttering, huffing, clawing at the earth as it shook its head in confusion. It thrashed and wailed, forcing Waverly to run and hide lest she be struck by a panicked limb.

Finally, the Dragon fell, blood soaking into the soil and weakly twitching.

Dead.

Nicole huffed out one final breath before dropping.

 _“Nicole!”_ Waverly darted across the clearing, almost slipping on blood. She sat down beside Nicole to inspecting the damage. Nicole moaned weakly at her prodding, blood pouring freely from her leg, unable to even lift her head. Too much magic.

Nicole turned her head slowly and she looked at Waverly with curious fear. Waverly held back tears as a slow realization crawled over her.

Nicole knew Waverly was tasked with killing her.

_And she had still saved her._

“Why?” Waverly asked quietly as she drew the dagger from its hiding place. “Why, if you knew I was going to kill you?”

Waverly waited for it. The admission, the betrayal, the reason why Nicole would risk her life for her despite everything. None of it made sense. It couldn’t be a ploy, or a play, because Nicole was here. Dying. For _her._

Her. Waverly Earp, heir to nothing, born in the land of dust and cactus, where men killed each other over paltry coin. Nothing in all of her history deserved this _sacrifice_ from Nicole Haught, heir to a land as large as a kingdom, and leader of a group of honorable Knights straight from the stories.

Nicole swallowed hard, looking up at her with hazed eyes.

“I promised,” Nicole rasped, weakly gasping for air. She fell back, too exhausted, too burnt out to continue.

The dagger fell from her hands. The crushing weight of her family broke open over her shoulders and Waverly knew: She would not kill Nicole. Not now, not _ever_.

“No.” Waverly shook her head. “ _No_. I’m not. I won’t do it.” She ripped at her own dress and undid Nicole’s plate legging, finding the horrendous wound. She bandaged as best as she could, cursing herself for never learning magic, tears almost ruining the whole ordeal.

She had some semblance of skill from all of her books and diagrams, but it wasn’t enough. There was so much blood. It soaked her hands, her dress, her face as she tried to wipe away tears.

Shouts came from over the hill, and Waverly looked up to see Wynonna running ahead of a pack of knights. She skidded down the hill to a stop next to Waverly.

"What happened?" Wynonna demanded.

“Please!” Waverly begged in a desperate shout, “Please! _Save her!”_

Wynonna frowned briefly, but nodded at Waverly’s insistence, dragging out her medical bag. “What? Being a thief is dangerous stuff.”

“But do you actually know how to use--”

“My lady!” the knights called, clacking to a stop. “My lady, what has happened here?”

“She’s dying!” Waverly sobbed. “She’s dying and we--”

A few of them knelt beside Waverly, gently taking her away, even as she weakly fought to stay. “Come with us, my lady, please. Let our medics…”

“She, she--” Waverly broke into sobs. Wynonna stood as the medics moved in and pulled her into a hug. Nicole had been honest about all of it. All of it. All of her kindness, her gifts, they _meant_ something, and now she was dying before Waverly, before Waverly could…

Could _what?_

Waverly stopped crying in confusion, feeling a subtle shift. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate Nicole anymore. Why, it was quite possible that she could even be some kind of _friend_. The knowledge broke her further. A friend was now dying on the ground because of her.

“She saved me. She saved me, Wynonna, and now she’s _dying_ \--”

“Shh, shh,” Wynonna hushed her, holding her close. “Shh. It’ll be okay.”

Exhaustion crawled into every muscle, and by the time the carriage arrived, the knights sat the barely-conscious Waverly next to the driver as it raced toward the city. All of Nicole’s troops were two steps behind.

* * *

It was the first time Waverly saw what would be her home, but she had no time to consider the beautiful central city of Aldermonte.

The city itself was old. Far older than the Capital, which had been forged with magic by the first Empress. This had been built well before the rebellion, and somehow lasted through the fall of the Old Kingdom. Built entirely on a rising cliff above a river, it was perfectly defensible.

The houses were brightly colored stone and sloping roofs, the streets were well-paved cobble, framed with bright foliage, and the people were smiling, colorful, happy. It quickly changed as Nicole’s carriage passed by, with grim expressions and darkening faces as they realized their calls were unanswered because something was very, very wrong with their Lady Haught.

The knights led her into the palace, a somber entourage. The waves from the people went unanswered, and concern soon found its way around the city. Large masses gathered outside the gates, questioning the guards there.

Waverly ignored it all. She wanted to scream and rage and throw things. Just take one of her knight’s expensive swords and bash it into something or somebody. This was all _fake_. She was worth nothing to this beauty, this expense, not without Nicole. And Nicole was dying and nobody was taking it serious and people were not screaming quite enough at all over this horrible, horrible fact.

The mood of the palace was somber, deathly quiet, as they carried Nicole into her bedroom. Sheets were splayed across the bed for her as quiet Moon priests prepared for surgery.

One of them signed at her. _You cannot be here._

“Why not?” Waverly responded, furious, signing with wild hands. “She’s my _wife.”_

Another gently touched her, leading her through the doors. Waverly didn’t want to fight against a priest, so she just glared.

 _Do not argue,_ the leader signed with finality as the knights shut the door.

“Hey!” Waverly shouted as the door slammed shut. “Hey! Let me see my wife!” she pounded on the door before kicking it in frustration.

She waited.

And waited.

Waverly paced, waiting some more, unable to hear anything going on behind the doors to what would be her room. Their room. Her wife...The Dragonslayer... _Nicole_...

“Why is it taking so _long_?” Waverly demanded of her knights. They backed away in fear, but Chrissy did not.

“Because of how much magic she used,” Chrissy explained patiently. “Can’t do more magic. Have to do it with stitching and all that.”

Waverly gave up being furious and grabbed Wynonna into a hug. Tears fell on Wynonna’s borrowed tunic as she gently soothed Waverly’s heaving back.

Wynonna, meanwhile, was having a crisis of character. Her sister was sobbing over the woman who arrested her. She wanted to punch, kill, or kiss the Dragonslayer all at once. Saving her sister’s life was a bonus, but making her cry and sob and wail like she was losing part of herself… Well, that was _unacceptable_.

“Hey. Hey, kid, what’s this priest doing with his hands?” Wynonna tapped her sister repeatedly until she turned with reddened eyes.

 _You may see her,_ a faceless priest signed at Waverly, _She is awake._

Furious shouts and the sound of things breaking interrupted the quiet atmosphere, and Waverly ran past the priest into the room, only to see Nicole fall back onto the bed unconscious. The vase on the side table had been _shattered_ where it stood -- but was now frozen mid-shatter, the pieces floating in the air like an explosion had taken place inside it.

The priests were still silent, signing back and forth at a rate that made it hard to catch. One of them noticed her.

 _Something is wrong with her,_ they signed.

“What is?” Waverly was at Nicole’s side in an instant, the wave of priests parting for her. She felt at Nicole’s forehead. “She’s burning.”

 _We don’t know._ The priest lowered their head, shaking it. _Something strange. Put her to sleep._ The priest pointed to the vase and signed one word: _Her._

Waverly touched one of the floating pieces of the vase and they all fell to the ground at once. It was as if they had been frozen inside the moment. Waverly’s eyes widened. Chronomancy.

“Can you wake her?” Waverly asked, turning away from the ruins on the floor. She had to witness it for herself.

 _Are you sure?_ The priest asked.

Waverly nodded and brushed aside some hair from Nicole’s strained face.

The faceless priests moved as one, removing the spell from the air with smooth, elegant movements before they snapped their hands forward to make it vanish.

Nicole woke, gasping, and sat up without care for her injury.  Her wild eyes lit upon one thing: Waverly. She leaned forward and snatched her by the sleeve of her dress, pulling her close.

 _“Robert,”_ Nicole whispered fiercely.

Waverly’s eyes widened, and she signed _please leave_ to the priests. Nicole panted, her gaze hazy and wandering, her grip unrelenting. Waverly felt a stir of fear.

The doors slammed shut.

“Nicole,” Waverly said gently, hesitantly, lifting Nicole’s hand from her dress. She tried to find anything beyond the haze in Nicole’s eyes and failed. “Are you all right?”

Nicole shook her head slightly, her eyes tinted a strange sort of gold. “I saw it. I saw him. Are you listening?”

“I’m--”

“He’s come _back_ ,” Nicole said, as if Waverly hadn’t tried to speak at all.

“What?” Waverly shook her head in disbelief with a frown. “No. Nicole, you told me you killed him.” Nicole made to stand. “Whoa, whoa! Stop that! Sit back down, Nicole!” Waverly tried to catch her breath, feeling slightly ill. Something had gone wrong. The priest was right.

“You can’t hear me,” Nicole muttered, weakly fighting. “You can’t hear me. She can’t. No, no, no, I know that -- Please stop, I can’t hear -- _You are too loud!”_ Nicole thundered, and Waverly flinched back. Nicole let her head fall into her hands, clawing at her own face.

“Nicole…” Waverly knelt by the bed. “Are you all right?”

“Shut up,” Nicole muttered. “Shut up. Shut up. Stop talking. Stop!” Waverly had gone quiet, but still Nicole continued. _“I can’t hear when you are yelling at me!”_

“Nicole, you’re _scaring_ me,” Waverly said, flinching back.

“She’s-- she’s…” Nicole groaned. “Waverly. Where is Waverly?”

“I’m right here!” Waverly waved her hand in front of Nicole’s wild eyes. They turned, fixing on her, and she gasped at the incoherence she found there.

“Waverly? Or--” Nicole watched Waverly’s face fall. “No, it’s her. It’s Waverly. I can tell. _Stop! Yelling! I can tell!_ ”

Waverly stood up, moving away, trembling slightly from the effects of the yelling. “I’m not going to stay if you keep shouting, Nicole.”

“No! No!” Nicole plead, standing. “Don’t leave. I can’t-- I just can’t hear you over-- She’s in pain and--” Nicole pressed her hands against her temple, her face twisting with pain. “I _can’t_ .”

Waverly gently let her hand fall to Nicole’s shoulder, trying to reassure her even though she felt the same terror. “You _can.”_

“I have to…” Nicole blinked rapidly, and her vision cleared at last. She saw Waverly. Really, really _saw_ her. “I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“Anybody can fulfill prophecy,” Nicole said, breathing raggedly as if under great strain. “Anybody. Robert was-- He was going to-- He was _the chosen one_ .” Nicole swallowed. “I _killed_ him.”

Waverly shook her head ever so slightly. “Did he… Did he _do_ something to you, Nicole?”

“Not important,” Nicole declared. “No, no. What’s important is he…” Nicole grimaced and Waverly squeezed her shoulder, urging her back.

“Breathe, Nicole.”

“Robert,” Nicole panted with a shake of her head. “I saw him. He’s coming _back.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no, go ahead nicole, feel free to leave out very important stuff.
> 
> ANYWAY DRAGON SCENE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT i worked hard and i want to know your reactions thanks love u
> 
> anyway! next time on TOSWTDII: political intrigue by somebody who knows shit all about politics. LETS DO THIS! HELL YEAH! BRAVERLY EARP BAYBEEEE also we get some answers and stuff but thats not important because _nicole haught is on a throne for one of the scenes and im just a huge lesbian_
> 
> and now a brief message from my pet pigeon, enyo: vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvtgfr gviu8;/  
> [@Sensitivepigeon](https://twitter.com/sensitivepigeon)  
> [Sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com](http://sensitive-pigeon.tumblr.com/)


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